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TV, TS, Rape, Sex

My Days Being

Forced

By Amy Brett

Chapter 1

AT FIRST SHE was only quiet when I got home. It didn't take a mental

giant to realize something was wrong. She wasn't talking. She was

throwing things around in the kitchen.

When I went to the kitchen and asked if something was wrong, she

threw me a withering look and continued her silent tirade, pursing her

lips. I knew that was a very bad sign.

She glared at me through dinner. She answered my questions, that

were quickly becoming shorter and less frequently asked, with

monosyllables if at all. She frowned. I was getting worried and I was

getting a headache from the tension. Christ, what had I done.

Linda and I have a happy marriage. We've been married for five

wonderful years during which we have done virtually everything

together. We love each other deeply. That's probably why the whole

thing disconcerted me so much.

After dinner, she seemed to make a decision. She rose from the

table and, a moment later, returned with a manila envelope. She put it

under her left hand and only looked at me while drumming her fingers.

Then she looked as if she made a decision and slid the envelope

to me. Wondering, I picked it up and opened it.

There was no way I could have anticipated this.

The top picture was of Tom Vasili and I, smiles on our faces and

arms around each other's shoulders.

Tom Vasili. It had been a long time. A year before I met Linda,

we had been best friends in college. She knew him too. And on the

other side of me in the picture was Emily Van Horne. Oh, God, Emily!

The three of us had been inseparable for that one school year. We

did homework together, we ate and drank together, and we discussed

life and love and philosophy and God and ... everything.

It had been a wonderful time but had also been a frightening

time. My ideas were challenged at every side. I tried grass and LSD. I

spent the majority of that year high, mentally wild, and wonderfully

alive and happy.

And I knew that I had tried almost everything that it was

conceivable to try. And I didn't need the rest of the pictures to

know, if not the particulars, the general thrust of what was being

shown.

We had done it as a lark and as an experiment and ... I don't

know. It was all stupid. But I didn't remember pictures being taken.

But here they were!

One picture showed me making love to Emily. Another showed me

with my cock in her mouth. And, finally, the last showed me with my

face almost buried between Emily's legs while Tom fucked me.

"Well, sweetie?" she said with a vicious edge to her voice.

"I don't remember this happening," I said honestly. It could have

happened. Certainly the evidence of the pictures said it had happened

but I didn't remember it.

"You're denying it?" she almost screamed.

"No," I said quietly. "I don't think these leave much doubt. I

couldn't deny it if I wanted to. But I don't remember it. I must have

been high on something."

"Christ, Buddy. Making love to HER? And letting her suck you?"

I could feel the blow coming.

"Eating her out?" I had done that once with Linda but I didn't

really like it so didn't again. "You'll never do that with me."

Her rage frightened me. And the unspoken, as yet, reference I

knew was coming.

"And you" she choked, "you with Tom."

I swallowed hard, trying to swallow the chunk of coal that seemed

to have been stuffed into my throat.

"Where did these come from?" I asked.

"They were in the mailbox. About an hour later, somebody called

and said the negatives are available for five thousand dollars."

"Five thousand! Good God!"

She was silent, looking at me, again for a long time. I could

only squirm.

"Motherfucker!" she said with a quiet intensity.

"Honey, you've --"

"Shut up." I did. I knew anything I said couldn't help me. "We're

not paying your buddies anything. Fuck them!"

"Good --"

"Shut UP! If they decide to go to the newspapers, what the hell,"

she continued. "None could print them. We don't have kids and both our

parents are dead. Who the fuck are they going to show them to besides

me?"

Again she glared.

"And I've seen them, haven't I?"

"I --"

"Shut up," she said again intensely.

She stood up then and hauled back with her right arm. I cringed

in spite of knowing that her punch is nothing to worry about

greatly. We're about the same size but I at least like to think that I

pack more of a wallop than she.

"No, by God, that wouldn't do a damned thing. I can't hit hard

enough."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It was before I even knew you," I

streamed out before she could stop me.

"Doing things with her. The bitch. And worse with him. Good

God. I'm so humiliated!"

"I'm --"

"Shut up."

"I'll do anything, baby --" I tried.

"You couldn't do anything."

"Anything, sweetheart. Just --"

"Okay. Then shut the fuck up! Now!" she screamed.

She paced the room, mumbling to herself and looking at the

floor. I couldn't help but enjoy watching her as she moved in spite of

her rage. Her short skirt flipped at the back of her knees as she

walked, her high heels clicking on the tile of the floor. Her arms,

crossed under her breasts, only held them up more firmly.

"Humiliated ..." I caught again along with another series of

swear words.

"That's it," she said again to me. "I'm humiliated. Now it's your

turn."

She walked across the room and grabbed hold of my

shirtsleeve. "Come with me."

I went with her willingly since I wanted to do nothing else to

infuriate her. She led me to our basement and I watched as she went

through the trunks her mother had left her when she died. I didn't see

what she was doing but she did it roughly, throwing things into a

laundry basket, lifting it and leading the way back upstairs and into

the bedroom.

As we crossed the doorway, she turned, still looking at me with

that rage in her eyes.

"Strip. Now." I began taking my clothes off. After I took off my

pants, she only gestured to take my underwear off and I did. I have

rarely been as turned off and I was as soft as I have ever seen it.

"Poor baby," she said sarcastically. "You don't look

excited. Shower," she said after looking at me for a while and, if

possible, withering it still further with her look.

I did and, as I came out, found her standing with a straight

razor in her hand. That really frightened me.

She knelt in front of me and began to shave the hair off my legs

in long, almost careless strokes. The only thing she said to me as

every leg hair was removed in the next 10 minutes was to stand still.

Then she smiled at me with an evil, mirthless smile and firmly

grabbed my cock and balls in one hand, the other still filled with the

razor. I held my breath as it came toward me.

In another five minutes she had trimmed off every pubic hair and,

releasing me only then, stood back and admired her work. My balls hurt

from the rough, tight hold she'd had on me.

Again I followed her to the bedroom. On the bed was a pile of

women's clothes. I only looked at them.

Looking through the pile and moving things with her right hand,

she held out a pair of black panties in her left. I only stood there

with my mouth open.

"Put em on, sweetie," she said again sarcastically.

I did. I noticed that the front of the panties held me, although

to one side and the high sides kept them up. She turned and guided her

fingers along the leg holes at the front of the panties, nestling them

as close to my cock as possible. Then she walked behind me and roughly

pulled the thin material into the crack of my ass and the hips as high

as she could get them.

Sitting me down, she efficiently painted my toenails with

brilliant red nail polish and indicated I should do the same with my

fingers. Tentatively, I did as told.

Turning, she held out a pair of stockings and indicated I should

put them on as well. With a great deal of difficulty, I finally got

them both on. The elastic at the tops held to my thighs. The material

felt wild as it seemed to trigger every nerve on my naked legs.

She indicated I should stand then and, moving behind me, strapped

a black brassiere around my chest, the straps across my shoulders and

the tight elastic clasping at my skin.

Moving in front of me, she began stuffing strange pieces of latex

into the cups of the bra. I remembered her mother had had a mastectomy

and these, undoubtedly, were the mastectomy pads she had had. As I

moved, I found they felt like I imagined breasts would feel, both for

weight and movement.

Then she held out the filmiest blouse she owned. She refused to

wear it because it was too revealing, she said. Black, it was simple

to see through.

Then she handed me the shortest black skirt I have ever seen. It

must have been a hold- over from the 60's since I hadn't seen one like

it since those wonderful days. Black too, it fell to high on my nylon

covered thighs.

She threw me a wide red belt and I quickly put it around my

waist. I had to hold my breath to fasten its six inches of sparkling

leather width around my stomach and waist.

Then she sat me down at her makeup table looking away from the

mirror, and began to apply things to my face. I could feel them and

smell their feminine smells, but I couldn't see the effect. I sneezed

at powder, cringed at plucked eyebrows, closed my eyes for mascara.

Again she turned and dropped a wig on my head and straightened

it. The long hair fell below my shoulders in blond rings. I had seen

her wear it once several years before but, she said, it was too hot

and now wore only her own short hair.

Then she handed me a pair of black patent leather shoes and, as I

slipped them on, I saw long, thin straps that circled my ankles and

fastened. They felt very tenuous since they were a little too small

for my feet but the strap held them on.

Now she stood me up again and, for the first time since I had

gotten home, smiled pleasantly. I towered above her since I am

normally a little taller than she but with the very high heels, it

added at least 4 inches.

She slipped a pair of gold colored bracelets on my wrist and, as

I squirmed again, clipped on a pair of large gold colored earrings.

"Walk around," she said. "You're going to need a little

practice."

I didn't know what she was talking about but walked around the

room on the high heels anyway. They were not comfortable but I quickly

saw that I could at least walk.

"Oh, one more thing," she turned again, unscrewed the cap of a

jar I could not see, and walked behind me. "Bend over as far as you

can."

I did, nearly falling over on my face but for catching the edge

of the bed. I felt her throw the back of the skirt up over my back and

touching my naked bottom. Then she pulled the material of the panties

out of the crack of my ass.

I felt something between my legs, pressing at the skin of my

asshole uncomfortably.

"Spread your legs," she said. I stepped outward. "Further." I

spread my knees shakily.

Then I felt something insinuating itself between my legs, into my

ass, roughly. In, in, inward in a rocking motion backward and forward

until I felt it very deep inside me. Then I felt more motion there and

movement outward.

She tossed the pink plastic tube of a Tampax on the bed then but

I still felt filled. Then she pulled the string and I knew that it was

embedded deep within me. I moaned in humiliation.

"Oh, yes, sweetie," she said again with that dripping

sarcasm. "You have to know what it's like to be a woman. I only have

to live with this a week each month." Then roughly, she pulled the

material of the panties back into the crack of my ass and pulled the

skirt down.

"Stand up. See how it feels," she said. I did and could hardly

keep my legs from collapsing with the feeling of it. It was

uncomfortable and, with every movement, I felt it move. But somehow it

was also very sensual.

"Look at yourself," she said with a "shame on you" kind of

inflection, her arms crossed over her chest.

I looked into the mirror and couldn't believe it. There was a

woman in the mirror. And actually, not a bad looking woman. Certainly

the woman was a sexily dressed one.

She walked around in front of me then, a smile playing on her

lips. She put a hand on each of my false breasts, squeezing them

sexily as she looked me up and down.

"Now you're going to do a favor for me," she said nastily. "I

want a newspaper." I thought wildly. There was a newspaper in the

kitchen from yesterday. But I thought I knew, with a groan, what she

meant. She wanted a new newspaper. "Today's," she said in case I had

missed the message.

I visualized the newspaper rack in the lobby of the Holiday Inn

on the busiest street in town where I sometimes got one on the way

from the office. It was a block south and three blocks east from our

house. More often than picking one up myself, I usually asked her to

go down and get a paper after I came home.

"Come with me." She led the way from the bedroom to the front

door and pushed me toward it as she opened it. "If you don't get the

newspaper," she said with that hard edge to her voice, "you might as

well stay at the motel. You won't get back in here." The door closed

after she put a quarter in my hand.

I thought about going through alleys or back yards but quickly

decided I couldn't do it in high heels and a short skirt. I was going

to have to brazen it out and walk down the sidewalks. The skin of my

neck crawled with fear.

I put my chin up and started walking.

Walking in the high heels was a true experience. I stumbled and

clacked as I walked. My ankles hurt with the new and quite different

pressures placed on them by the shoes.

But I noticed too that, as if manufactured for the purpose, they

forced my hips to sway back and forth, making the skirt sway in

opposition.

A block away from the house, I saw our car pass me with Linda not

even glancing at me from the driver's seat. Two blocks away, a carload

of teenage boys passed, hanging out of the windows and showering me in

catcalls and lewd invitations. I cringed but walked on, ignoring

them. They kept going, thank God.

I got a lot of attention when I reached busy Concord Street a

block from the motel but all I could do was swing my arms (and my hips

in the high heels) and walk on.

Finally I got to the Holiday Inn and walked through the front

door and into the lobby.

It was a busy place with dozens of people walking around the open

space. Several people were checking in at the desk, three or four sat

in chairs talking.

I intended to walk directly to the newspaper rack, get a paper

and leave as quickly as possible. It didn't work.

"Ah, there she is now," her voice said across the large room. I

saw Linda and three men walking toward me. "If you ask her real nice,

I'm sure she'll have a drink with us."

"Rita," she said as she grabbed my arm. "This is Bob and Bill and

... I guess I didn't get your name."

"Roger," the man said, staring at my breasts unashamedly.

She leaned very close to me then and whispered, "You better find

a woman's voice in there, sweetie."

I tried to think of what a woman's voice would sound like and

pitched my normal voice slightly higher. "Nice to meet you. I hope

you'll excuse me. I have to deliver a paper."

"Oh, you couldn't do that, Rita," Linda said brightly. "My

friends want to buy us a drink and I told them all about you. How sexy

you are."

I cringed again but nodded and accepted one of the men's arm,

impossible to ignore or refuse. I smiled, trying to put on the best

face I could with the terror climbing up and down my spine. She'd set

me up.

They led me to a table in the bar and ordered drinks for all of

us. I sat back, so nervous and frightened of discovery that I shook as

if I were cold. One of the men noticed and gave me his coat that I

gratefully draped across my shoulders. It covered up part of my almost

uncovered upper body. It was also warm and a little sweaty.

Linda and the men did most of the talking. I only said something

when a question was directed to me. I drank the foamy cream drink they

had ordered for me and watched them.

Bob, I think it was, expended a lot of energy trying to hustle

Linda. I seethed as I watched her lead him on. They danced and I

watched her lean into him sexily, wrapping her arms around his

neck. And I watched as he kissed her and she responded again.

It grated on me a lot as I watched her skirt ride up on the back

of her legs as she stretched to drape herself on him. They barely

moved around the floor. Really just an extended hug, their bodies

moving slightly to the jukebox's music.

"Would you like to dance," Roger said near my ear. I was mad and

decided she needed some of her own medicine.

"Yes," I said. "I would."

He smiled brightly and led me to the middle of the dance floor. I

realized belatedly that I didn't know how to dance as a woman but

Roger didn't really give me opportunity to worry about it as he

grabbed my left hand and put his arm around my back to hold me close

to his body roughly.

I looked at Linda then and saw her glaring at me but, seeing that

I'd noticed, purposefully ignoring me and repositioning her body even

closer to Bob.

When we all returned to the table, I carefully arranged the short

skirt to avoid giving myself away, crossed my legs, and continued to

drink and listen to the talk. Still another in a series of drinks

arrived and the men paid for them. I could feel the cold emanating

from Linda as she sat next to me.

"Linda," I said quietly. "Can we go home now?"

"No," she glared at me.

"I've got to go to the bathroom."

"Suffer," she said harshly.

I did for a while, watching as she danced two or three more times

and refusing other offers myself. Obviously, my little attempt at

revenge had backfired.

"Linda, I've got to go. I have to."

She looked at me fiercely then her look softened to a smile.

"You'll excuse us," she said to the men. "We have to adjourn to

the powder room." She stood, even as my mouth dropped in disbelief,

and grabbed my hand.

On the way through the lobby toward the restroom she leaned close

to me again. "I'm going to check for that little string I put in

before. It better still be there or I'll put in a new one myself."

I only nodded.

Still not believing it, I followed her as she led the way across

the bar and into the lobby where the restrooms are. Knowing I couldn't

go to the men's room, I followed her into the bathroom and,

astonished, saw that three other women already occupied it.

She indicated the stall nearby and, not having a choice, I went

to it, locked the door behind me, pulled down the black panties to my

knees, and did what I had to do. Then I replaced the panties and

unlocked the door.

The women combed their hair, freshened lipstick, and

chattered. Finally they left, leaving Linda and I alone.

"You're doing very well," she said.

"I have to if I want to get out of here alive," I said, firmly

believing it.

She giggled, I'm sure from the drinks and not from real

mirth. "You're very pretty, sweetie. You've got nothing to worry

about." I watched as she freshened her own makeup then turned and

brushed my hair quickly where it had been mussed.

With a lewd movement, she reached around me, lifted the skirt

slightly and searched until she found the string. She pulled it

roughly, then, apparently satisfied, tucked it back into the back of

the panties and roughly pulled them back between my ass cheeks.

"There," she said with a smile, looking at me. "As good as new."

Then she lifted her skirt absently and pulled her blouse down. "No,

wait," she said. Purposely, holding me with her look as a spider does

a fly, she lifted the skirt high above her waist and pulled her own

panties downward until she could step out of them. She wore the same

kind of nylons she had forced on me.

"Now, what I'm going to do, my pretty girl, is put these in my

purse. Then I'm going to go back to the table and get one of those

guys to finger me to an orgasm. What do you think of that?"

I groaned again. "Linda, don't do this. I didn't do anything this

bad. Please."

"Forget it, sweetie. At least, I'm not making you take your

panties off. And I could, couldn't I?"

"It'd give me away pretty fast and then your little game would be

over."

"Yes, that's why I'm not doing that. But you just watch and see

what I can get these guys to do."

She turned quickly and left the restroom then. I knew there was

nothing I could do about it. I only followed.

I watched her after we returned to the table.

She hadn't any more than sat down when she leaned close to Bob's

ear. I watched her pull her skirt high on her legs and look down at

the naked skin above the nylons. Very nearly, she showed him her naked

midsection.

Maybe she didn't expect what happened next.

Bob tapped Bill on the knee and whispered something in his

ear. Then he stood and changed positions with Linda, giving her little

choice in the matter.

I watched as the two men stared into space, at the dancing

couples, at the bar and, simultaneously, allowed their hands to rest

on Linda's knees. Their fingers traced little shapes on her nylon

covered legs and, I noticed, gently pulled her legs further apart

until her legs were wide.

Then Bill's hand moved upward on her leg until it went under her

short skirt and began more movement there. I saw her tense as,

obviously, they contacted something connected to her nervous system.

Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

Her eyes closed as the two men, working in concert, found her

most sensitive spots and began moving on and in them. It was obvious

to anyone looking that Bob had found her cunt and his finger was

buried deep within it.

Her head went back and her mouth opened as they continued. Then,

I saw, her body went rigid, the muscles of her legs vibrating, as a

climax racked her body.

Roger chose that inopportune moment to ask me to dance. Since I

couldn't stand the sexual tension of watching Linda, I agreed and

followed him to the floor.

He held me closer than he had before and, before I could react,

turned my face and kissed me on the lips very hard. His tongue

forcibly spread my lips and delved into my mouth. His hand held my

hand and my shoulder at once pulling my upper body off balance and

into his body. His other hand, I felt then, slipped from my back to my

bottom and clasped it roughly.

As the kiss extended, I found myself far less resistant to it,

actually falling into it completely. I was so involved, actually, that

I didn't feel his hand move down to the hem of the skirt I wore, under

it and back up until his hand clasped my naked bottom. I knew, if she

looked, Linda would see that I was exposed as would everyone else who

looked.

But I couldn't break off that wonderful kiss. And it continued

through the dance.

He led me back to the table as the music stopped and I sat

down. Immediately, I saw that Linda was still engaged. In fact, now

she had a hand in each of the two men's laps as they unhesitatingly

masturbated her. She was fully open to view from only slightly below

her waist, down.

At once, as if my looking at them had keyed it, all three

climaxed obviously and completely.

This time Linda recovered first and returned her hands to the

arms of her chair. The two men only relaxed in theirs.

With a shock, I felt Roger's warm breath on my ear just before he

kissed it.

"I'd do that for you, too," he said, his fingers touching my leg

and moving upward. It was tantalizing for a moment and I was slow in

reacting. But I quickly put my hand on the back of his, stopping his

upward progress short of his goal, thankfully.

"I think you better help your friends," I said. "And then we'll

talk about it when you get back."

He looked at the two men, the stains soaking through their pants,

and with a frown stood and walked behind them. He whispered something

to them that I was sure pointed out their conditions. They quickly

stood and left for the bathroom.

Equally as quickly, I stood and walked to Linda.

"Linda, we've got to go right now, while they're gone. If we

don't, you're going to get raped and ... I don't know what's going to

happen to me but I don't really think you want that. Please, let's

go."

She looked around and made a decision. She stood, crooked a

finger at me, and walked toward the door. I followed, then caught up

and nervously even pushed her forward toward the outside.

We made it safely to the car and into it. Perhaps she had

forgotten why I had been sent out. I didn't have a newspaper and had

no intention of going back for one. I didn't have to walk back home

again. A little drunkenly, I thought, she started the car, backed into

the lot, and drove home. Once there, she unlocked the door and led the

way in.

Relieved at being home, I quickly went to the bathroom as she

moved on down the hall to the bedroom. Only a minute later, I got to

the bedroom.

"You thought I had forgotten, didn't you, sweetie," she said from

the middle of the room. She stood with her feet wide apart in the

most aggressive stance I had ever seen her take. Her hands were on her

hips. "You've still got some making up to do."

I was very dejected. "All right. What now?"

"Come here and unbutton my blouse." I did as I was told. "Take

off my bra." I did. "Now suck my tits. This one first." I did and felt

her hands pulling my face close to her randy body. She forcefully

lifted my head and fed me the other breast after a few moments then,

after another few minutes, pulled me away from her.

"Take off my skirt, sweetie. I always wanted to have a lesbian

eat me out." I did as I was told, though with a great deal more

willingness than most of the things she had had me do. She sat down on

the dressing table, indicated I should kneel in front of her, and

spread her legs wide. Then she entwined her fingers in the long hair

of the wig and pulled my face harshly into her cunt.

"Eat me bitch! Suck it up in your mouth. Put your tongue in my

cunt. Suck on my clit until I come."

Amazingly fast, she came magnificently then pushed me away

again. I lost my balance and fell backwards on the floor.

"Now get on your hands and knees." I did and felt the firm pull

of the string and, eventually, the loss of the Tampax. The skirt was

now above my waist. Her finger twisted and turned as it went in my

asshole until I felt her knuckles against my ass. After a few long

strokes, I felt a second then a third finger. Her other hand wrapped

around my manhood, sheathed in the thin panties still and pumped at

it.

I felt my come rising then. Suddenly, she stopped. "No," she

said. "That's too good for you."

As if she had had it planned, she pulled a pair of nylons from

her drawer and tied my hands behind my back. Then she tied one to my

left leg and to a leg of the couch. Then the other to the leg of the

bed, pulling powerfully until I felt like a wishbone my legs were

spread so far.

She inspected my asshole under me with her fingers and moved the

material of the panties until I stood free of them. Then she lowered

her body onto my cock until it was all inside her.

"Now, I'm going to rape you, you fucking asshole." And for the

next two hours, she did -- magnificently.

Chapter 2

AS I WAS put to bed that night, I thought that Linda's anger had run

its course. She even kissed me goodnight gently. But I was wrong.

Oh, I say "put to bed" in a literal sense. After she was through

taking her anger out on my body, she gave me a long, flannel nightgown

to put on over the bra and the returned panties. Then she led me to

the spare bedroom and directed me into the bed, shut the door, and

locked it behind her.

For the rest of that long weekend, I did everything she asked of

me. The uncomfortable Tampax was renewed in my ass each time I had to

expel it to got to the bathroom, the string frequently checked. In the

house, she didn't require my dick to be tied up between my legs and

around my waist as on our trip out. But it was returned each time she

insisted on my running an errand, as were the high heels.

I wore a variety of women's clothing that weekend along with the

makeup and wig. Generally these clothes were less revealing and

somewhat more comfortable for me. Flat shoes or small heeled sandals

replaced the high heels in the house. When I was wearing the women's

pants one afternoon without nylons, she even allowed me to go

barefoot.

I did all the cooking that weekend after cleaning house

throughout the days. It wasn't an enjoyable weekend for me. Of that

there was no doubt.

I cringed at what I feared she had in mind for me on Monday

morning when she woke me and wondered if I could appear at work in a

dress but she relented without discussion. The clothes she laid out

for me that morning were my normal slacks, socks, shoes, shirt, tie

and sports coat. But she only allowed me to take the breast forms out

of the bra, the bra remaining. And the Tampax and panties remained

with a garter belt and nylons.

It wasn't an overly hot day, but the combination of pants and

stockings was quite warm. The fear of being caught wearing the

panties and bra were a constant concern for me during the day.

If I thought there might be some other relenting in her attitude

during the day, I was wrong. At about 2 in the afternoon, she stopped

by my office and, insisting I loosen my pants, checked for the Tampax

string. I hadn't dared remove it. I went home after work with a great

deal of trepidation.

When I arrived, she immediately guided me to my room, where I now

found my clothing and an interesting variety of women's clothes in the

closet but only filmy women's underwear and stockings in the

drawers. I was directed to dress "pretty" for dinner. She led me to

the car after I had dressed, made up, and returned the wig to my head,

and we went out to dinner.

At dinner, she leaned across the table and asked how I liked

being her little sweetheart. Of course, I told her I loved it. Then

the revelations began.

She had been doing her research during the day, I learned.

First she told me of her talk with my secretary that resulted in

her disclosure of the night I had spent with her a year before. I'd

done it once and realized I couldn't do it to myself or to

Linda. Linda didn't care about any "after the fact" thoughts. Only

about the initial indiscretion.

Then she told me about tracking down and finding George Marshall,

a salesman for a company mine works with occasionally. George is quite

thoroughly gay and, after a night of drinking, had convinced me that

sleeping with him would be a very exciting experience. It had been but

the look on Linda's face told me she didn't like it.

"It seems," she finally said, "that you find it impossible to

maintain fidelity and even to maintain masculinity. You'd fuck

anything, wouldn't you?"

I didn't have a leg to stand on and in the busy restaurant, I

didn't want to loudly defend my actions either. Before the cognac, she

passed me a tiny pill that she insisted I swallow. I did. Every

morning and evening in the six months since then, she has given me

another of the pills. It took a month and a pharmaceutical dictionary

for me to identify them -- Estrogen along with a complex of other

female hormones and catalysts.

I noticed their result first as my sexual desire diminished to

nothing almost immediately. During the first week, my nipples became

sensitive and somewhat swollen along with being quite red. After a

month, the swelling of my chest was obvious and the increased size of

my nipples was notable. After the second month, I could easily form a

cleavage of my own flesh with the breast forms to fill out my

bras. After three months, I could have worn an A-cup bra without the

breast forms and my nipples were as large as Linda's. Thankfully, my

sex drive returned at about this time.

Conversely, my balls began to shrink and my production of semen

tapered off to almost nothing. When Linda insisted on my tying back my

dick, it no longer hurt where my testicles were pressed even when I

sat with my legs crossed tightly.

I think that was about the time Linda made me climax for the

first time by touching and sucking on my nipples.

After that Monday dinner out, her disdain for me grew steadily,

particularly during the months when I couldn't get hard enough to

satisfy her in her semi-rapes.

It's now been six months. At night, I can wear a C-cup bra

without any breast forms and even went out one night with a low cut

dress on that showed a considerable decolletage.

It is a strange existence. I spend the workday, my chest wrapped

with an ace bandage, and my much longer hair tied in a hippie-like

tail nearly too long to pass for male. On a good night, I am her

plaything, her experiment. On a bad night, I'm almost her slave, doing

all the work around the house and taking her verbal abuse. We've only

been out of the house at night twice. Once, as I told you, in a low

cut dress and once earlier in a more conservative blouse and skirt.

Both times, she engineered getting laid as I was forced to

covertly watch.

Oh, yes, and last night. Friday night.

Last night, she had me dress very conservatively in a pair of

women's slacks and blouse. High heels of course. We never leave the

front door at night unless I'm wearing them. But no stockings, no low

cut outfit. No outrageous jewelry. Even minimal makeup.

She took me to her hairdresser! That's right.

Her hairdresser lives in the back of her little two chair shop

and Linda had made special arrangements with her to work on me. She

told her it would be a challenge. Pam seemed to enjoy what challenge

there was left after this six months of treatments of all sorts.

She started by giving me a permanent and styling my long hair

into a series of soft waves. Then she did a complete manicure and

pedicure. Now I know I can't have a traffic accident and end up in the

hospital. Most embarrassing, Linda paid for me to have a wax job on my

legs. It was unbelievably painful as the hot wax was put on them and

then systematically torn off along with the remaining hair.

Luckily, since this girl sincerely believed me to be Linda's

female cousin, Linda didn't let her do the bikini wax. That she saved

for when we got home. Have you ever plucked a nose hair or a vagrant

eyebrow? Or pulled a Band-Aid off a hairy part of your body? Imagine

that times about a million and you get some idea of the pain.

The only repayment for that was that she showed me her own wax

job, done a few days ago. That ended the evening when she allowed me

to eat her completely naked slit while she had numerous orgasms.

I worked hard today to get the house looking perfect under her

tight direction. The only enjoyable part being not having to wear the

sweaty wig but, rather, enjoying my own nicely done hair.

She had me start a beautiful dinner for four about an hour ago

after, of course, doing the shopping for it. Filets, baked potatoes,

vegetables, green salads, the works. A few minutes ago, she took over,

starting the potatoes, and sent me to shower and "get beautiful."

After my shower, I made up the best I know how and fixed my

hair. The permanent makes that easy. It combs out beautifully and

large, unruly waves surround my face and neck.

I put on my prettiest black lace bra, garter belt, and black

nylons. I choose my A-line little black dress with the low cut in

front and back and short skirt. I've lost three inches off my waist in

the last six months and the A-line clings to it really nice. I'm

proud.

I chose my nicest black panties and return to the bathroom. I've

gotten used to inserting the Tampax myself now and it comes as

naturally as the unnatural act of putting a bra on. As I get ready to

do that, the door opens and Linda's smiling face peeks in. "That won't

be necessary, sweetie," she says. "I think you've been on the rag for

long enough. Don't you?"

I nod and smile. Though I've gotten used to having the plug in my

ass all the time, I still haven't learned to like it and it is a

constant and continual irritant. Now, as I make a final check of my

looks in the mirror, it feels very strange and liberated to not be

wearing the Tampax.

"Here," she says as I return to the bedroom to shut off the light

and get my shoes. She holds up the bottle of her favorite

perfume. "Just a touch behind each ear, the back of your knees and the

creases of your thighs. Okay?" I smile. This must be some other

recognition of her love for me.

I sit down, pull the nylons down and put a drop behind each knee

before replacing the nylons and putting on my panties. I put a drop in

the fold of my thighs and wipe my wetted finger across my tummy. When

I stand up, I reorganize my dick so it is between my legs where it

belongs, and pull up the panties tighter. This works just fine.

I touch more of the perfume behind each ear and then in the

cleavage between my full breasts.

Coming back into the room, she hands me a pair of her sapphire

earrings. They're beautiful. I put them in my pierced ears, a result

of one night with an ice cube. As I look at them in the mirror, I'm

glad she pierced them, though I didn't enjoy it at all at the time.

She puts her long gold chain necklace with the single large

sapphire pendant on it around my neck so it settles in my cleavage. I

turn to her with my appreciative smile broad on my face and she smiles

back at me. I risk smearing both our lipsticks by kissing her softly.

"Mmmm," she says. "You smell nice. And you look just beautiful."

"Thank you," I say, feeling myself blush. Except for her mean,

cynical times, she's never said that to me before. Those earlier times

weren't meant as compliments and weren't taken that way.

"C'mon, now. We've got company coming."

"Company? Who?" I ask.

"Some friends of mine. I think you'll like them," she says as she

turns to the door. "I know they'll like you."

I followed her downstairs and into the living room where we sat

down. I enjoyed looking at her and the way her short dress showed the

sides of her thighs. Looking down, I realized her view of me was much

the same. It was very strange still, for me.

"Would you make me a drink, sweetheart?" she asks. She has only

demanded for six months. I wonder at the change but leap to do it for

her. "Actually, while you're there, why don't you make a pitcher of

martinis." Changing direction from a single glass to the pitcher, I

quickly make the drinks. "Please, have one yourself, baby."

I haven't had a drink for six months. Actually, I'm a little

afraid it'll go to my head but it sounds so good, I get out two

glasses and pour them on top of the speared olives. The doorbell rings

and I start to answer it before she says, "I'll get it, my little

lover."

I take the martinis to the living room and watch as she opens the

door. A tall, very beautiful woman wraps her arms around Linda and

exclaims. "Oh, Linda! You have such a wonderful house! And such a

neighborhood!" They kiss on the lips, I notice but this isn't too

unusual for women. It's the first time I've ever seen this woman. Of

that, I'm sure.

"Hi, Linda. You look fantastic!" the man says as he holds her

arms wide, his eyes traversing her from top to bottom as she twists

from one side to the other to best show it off. He takes her in his

arms and her leg lifts at the knee when he kisses her roughly and

thoroughly. I don't know him either.

"That dress must have cost you a fortune, Francie," Linda says. I

see that it is a very fashionable crisscross front blue dress in a

light material. The hem is tuliped, I think it's called, splitting at

the bottom in rounded corners. It's quite short. The top seems to only

barely constrain her considerable breasts. Her long blond hair falls

across her chest, the tips at the bottom of the low cut neckline.

"No, no," she says, waving off the compliment. "I've had it for

months."

The man is wearing a casual leisure coat over white pants and

white shoes. His pink shirt is unbuttoned to show the profuse hair of

his chest and several gold chains. He looks very fit.

"And you look wonderful, Ivan," she says. "As usual."

They come into the living room, Linda and Francie with their arms

around each others' backs.

Francie breaks away and rushes to me.

"This just has to be your Amy!" she exudes as she holds my arms

out to my sides as well, looking me up and down as she did

Linda. "Yes, yes! She's as pretty as you said she was!"

"I would say you understated," Ivan says. "Ivan Borosky at your

service," he says as he kisses the back of my hand. It tickles with

his mustache and sends a charge of feeling up my arm. Now I know why

women like this little continental gesture.

"Nice to meet you both," I say as sweetly as I can. "Would you

like a martini or can I make you something else.

"Definitely a martini, my dear," he says.

"Please," she says from behind him.

I turn to fill two more glasses. As I do, I listen to the

conversation in the other room.

"She's as nice as you said she was, my dear," the woman's voice

says.

"But you didn't tell us she was so pretty!" he adds. "How in the

world have you done it?"

I feel uncomfortable being discussed so candidly. I wonder what

Linda has told them.

"It really hasn't been too hard," Linda says. "We'll see tonight

how well I've done."

"I'm sure," both the other voices say. I vow that I'll try my

best at whatever Linda wants. I return with the drinks and find them

all sitting down. I notice that Francie's skirt opens high onto her

crossed thigh showing that she is wearing pantyhose. Otherwise the

garter and top of her stockings would be showing. It is that high. She

has beautiful long legs.

I put the drinks down in front of them and, looking up a little,

see that Ivan is staring down my cleavage. Bent over like this, he can

probably see my bellybutton. I straighten quickly and go to my chair

where I carefully sit and cross my legs away from them to maintain

some of my modesty at least. I've had enough instruction from Linda in

how to behave as a lady.

"So, Linda tells us that this is kind of your coming out party,

Amy," Francie says. I don't know how to answer. They have to know that

I'm too old to be having any kind of coming out party unless they know

more about me than I hope Linda has told them. I decide to speak to

the best possibility.

"Yes. I'm trying my hand at being the good hostess tonight." Ivan

chews on his olives as he continues to smile and stare at me

disconcertingly. His eyes too often dwell on either my legs or my

cleavage to be comfortable.

"I think you're doing beautifully, sweetheart," Francie says,

leaning to pat the back of my hand and, in the process, showing me her

assets down to her own bellybutton.

"You have a fine hand with a martini," Ivan says and I see that

his glass is empty. Quickly, I go to the kitchen and get the pitcher,

along with a large coaster to keep the dripping container from

staining the table. I pour new drinks into each of their glasses,

seeing each of their eyes looking down the front of my dress as I do

it. I squat slightly to set the pitcher down in the middle of the

table and see Ivan's eyes now on my legs.

I return to my chair and, flushed with embarrassment at the

inspection I've been getting, drink my own martini, stand and pour

myself another, and return to the chair.

"I think we need some more olives as well, Amy," Linda says. I

see that she's right and go back to the kitchen. While I'm there, I

check the potatoes and find them ready.

"Linda! It's just amazing!" Francie is saying in the other

room. "She's just so perfect!"

"Not perfect, dear," Linda answers, "but getting much better."

"Oh, I think you're being too hard on yourself. I agree with

Francie. Perfect." I return with a plate of olives on skewers and set

it down on the table. Everyone's eyes are again on my chest. It makes

me very nervous.

"So what have you been doing since the last time we saw you at

the club?" Ivan says to Linda.

"Oh, I have my work cut out for me here," she says. That, for the

last few months, has been telling me what to do next. I finish my

martini and pour another for myself and for Ivan, who has also

finished. As I stand back up, I realize I can feel the effects of the

two drinks already. I sit down carefully and work to pull my skirt

down to a reasonable level. When I look up, everyone's eyes are on

me. I blush.

I watch them for a while then as they talk of mutual

acquaintances at "the club." They must be talking about the place

where Linda works out and plays racquetball a couple of times a

week. It also includes a very nice lounge so any good done by the

exercise is immediately destroyed by a few drinks. It's mostly a

gathering place for the "beautiful" people.

"Amy," my wife says then. "It's time to put the steaks on." I nod

and leave the room. I can hear them talking but I can't hear what they

are saying now. I guess it doesn't matter. I really don't seem to have

much to talk to these people about anyway.

I put the salads on the dining room table and return to move the

finished steaks onto a plate to keep warm in the oven. The potatoes

come out and into a bowl and the vegetables into a serving dish to

join the steaks.

I return to the living room and call everyone to the table. Ivan

brings my martini with his. I see the pitcher is empty. He sets the

drinks down and then holds my chair for me before doing the same for

the other two women. He sits on my right.

"Would you open the wine, Ivan?" Linda says. We all watch as he

opens, pours a small amount, and swirls the wine before tasting

it. Then he pours for each of the rest of us.

"Amy," Francie says. "You set a beautiful table. Are the flowers

from the yard?"

"Yes," I answer. Another of my duties during the last six months

has been planting and caring for the flower garden.

We eat and, for the first time since they arrived, they are

paying attention to something besides me. It gives me a chance to let

go of the abject terror I've been feeling since the doorbell rang. I

loosen up somewhat but what I really feel is the butterflies in my

stomach. My God, I think. What would they think of me if they knew? I

close my eyes as I chew a succulent bite of steak, maybe enjoying the

slight dizziness I feel from the martinis.

"This is just absolutely wonderful!" Francie says, speaking to

me. I thank her quietly. "Perfectly done!"

"They say the way to a man's heart ..." Ivan says with a smile as

he sits back from his empty plate. "You've certainly gotten to mine."

In a few moments, the rest of us catch up with him, our plates

emptied.

"I'll get the cognac if you'll get the coffee, sweetheart," Linda

says then. Knowing my duties, I stand and get the coffee pot and the

warmer to set it on. I pour for each of them, noticing Linda's eyes

sparkling with her pride in me. I like that. She has already poured

the small amounts of cognac in the brandy snifters and Ivan swirls his

and breathes in the released vapors. I can remember doing that sort of

thing when I was more ostentatious. Now, I only savor the fiery

liquid, washing it past my tongue with hot coffee.

The combination of martinis, wine, and cognac is going to my

head. I can definitely feel it making me reel a little with their

combined effects. It gives me a heady, giddy feeling that I like as

long as I'm in control of it but I can sense the abyss that stretches

fairly near by.

"Let's move to where it's softer," Linda says and leads the way

into the living room. I start to pick up the dirty dishes in hopes

that the effort, with the dishwashing, will clear my head. "No, no,"

she calls back to me. "I'll help you with that later, darling. Come

and join us now."

I almost look at the dirty dishes with longing, partly because of

the hope they hold out to me of sobering somewhat and partly because I

can see them already when the meat juices have cooled and hardened

onto their surfaces if put it off.

I'm a bit put out when I get to the living room. Linda is sitting

in my chair and Francie is sitting in hers.

"Please," Ivan says, standing. "Come sit here beside me."

Squeezing between him and the coffee table, uncomfortably close to him

in the passage, I move to the open spot on the couch near him. Before

I can sit down, Francie moves over to the end where I intended to sit,

forcing me between the two of them. I think about moving to Linda's

chair but the effort just seems too much. I sit down with my coffee

and cognac. I'm not going to drink any more, I decide.

Francie turns on the couch toward me, her legs brushing against

mine as her hand strokes my shoulder.

"You did an absolutely wonderful job with dinner! And the table!

Beautiful! I just can't imagine a more well done meal. Like it was

catered after all!" She turns to Linda, who is leaning her smiling

face in her palm, relaxed. "You must be very very proud of her!"

I enjoyed the praise but somehow the profusion seems to smack

false somehow. I notice, distinctly, Francie's hand resting on first

the tip of my shoulder, then nearer my neck, then on my neck.

"I must say," Ivan says from my other side, "that I have honestly

never seen a finer meal, better served." His hand rests in the small

of my back as I sit poised on the edge of the couch's cushion.

I thank them but this is really getting to be a bit much. I was

good. But not this good. My head is fuzzy and now the fuzzy is

becoming more unpleasant. I sip at my coffee in an attempt to dull the

buzz I'm feeling.

"Amy," Francie says then. "Would you tell us a little about

yourself?"

My dulled brain seeks for an answer of some kind but it really

isn't functioning at full potential at all. Any quick responses I

might have been able to form a few hours ago are long gone. They've

probably been gone since the first martini. I shrug, hoping this is

enough.

"Tell them, Amy," Linda commands with a smile. I only look at her

for a second, wondering what she wants me to say. She seems to

understand and her look hardens. "Tell them the truth, Amy."

I gulp. I know now a little of what Linda has done tonight. The

two people at my sides, when I look at them, each smile but now I

know. It is another part of my "education." I wonder if I'm going to

enjoy it. I somehow doubt it if it is anything like the last few

months of my life. But I am resigned. I can't be otherwise.

"You know most of it, don't you?" I ask, looking into Ivan

eyes. He smiles. "Don't you?" I ask Francie. She smiles and nods once.

"Please tell us what you are feeling, Amy," Ivan says with more

sincerity than I've heard in a while. I take a deep breath and exhale

slowly.

"What do you want to know?"

"What does it feel like, sweetheart?"

"Feel like? I don't think I know what you mean." I really don't.

"How is your life different now than a few months ago?" Ivan

asks.

"About as different as possible," I answer. "Imagine, if you

can't imagine my condition, what it would be like to be a normal,

comfortable American one minute and the next a pygmy somewhere in the

jungle. It couldn't be any more different."

"That unpleasant?" Francie asks with a bit of derision. After

all, she is a woman.

"Maybe that's overstated," I say. "Maybe more like being stripped

naked and left in the middle of downtown at rush hour, Francie."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "That much of a shock? Really?" I only look

at her and smile.

"Except, perhaps you'd have a group of ready helpers," I say. "A

group of women perhaps who would hide you and offer their coats. Or a

group of men who would see that you got inside somewhere and taken

care of."

"You mean Linda has been that hard?" Ivan asks, looking at

Linda. I see her frown.

"I hurt her," I say. "I think I've deserved much of it. But it

doesn't change the fact that I feel alone in a very strange

situation. Or maybe a whole set of situations. Every situation, in

fact."

"But Linda is here to guide you. Even to tell you what you need

to do next." I nod.

"Yes, but I think I've lost her love. And that's what I need

most. Particularly now."

"But what do you feel about wearing women's clothes?" Ivan asks.

I smile. "That's the nicest part. I love the feel, the sensuality

of the clothes."

"Then the change?" Francie says. They have been thoroughly

briefed.

"That's all right. I don't really mind. This stage. Constantly

worrying about being caught. This is hard and frightening. The

underthings at work. Answering the door here. There's fear all the

time."

I wonder if I dare. I look at Linda and see her frown. I don't

think she's happy with me. Then she surprises me and sits forward in

her chair.

"You both know who Amy is. I've told you and I've told you what's

going on. Maybe I didn't tell you how it all started for us a few

months ago." Ivan's hand still rests in the small of my back, rubbing

it. Francie's hand is still on my neck, under my hair in the sensitive

short hair there. Occasionally they both move their fingers over me.

For the next 15 minutes, she tells them about my early infidelity

and the anonymous letter that started this whole thing. Then she

shares my more recent infidelities with my secretary and with George

Marshall. She tells them that I have craved being a woman for a long

time and I wonder if that's really true. Perhaps it is but I know I

would never have gone this far if she hadn't insisted.

It is strange. Often in the last few months, I've thought that I

deserved this punishment for my infidelities and for my more private

thoughts and actions. Linda has forced me to tell her everything I've

thought or done in my life at some time during the last six months.

As she recites these things back, I feel a tension in Ivan and

Francie's hands and their movements on me. They don't like these

things about me as I don't. Also, though, I feel their sexual

excitement as some things are revealed. Francie sighs and squirms

occasionally. Ivan smirks or maybe it's just a grin of

appreciation. I'm not sure.

"You have been a little bitch, haven't you, Amy?" Ivan asks with

that grin.

"She deserves the punishment," Linda concludes, obviously without

requiring their agreement in the least. It's just a statement of fact.

"And the treatments are really taking?" Francie asks.

"Oh, yes. Very nicely," Linda answers. "Show them, baby." I look

at her wondering what she wants of me. I really don't know if she

means my domestication or my physical body.

"What do you want?" I ask softly, my head bowed to the

inevitable.

"I want you to pull down the top of your dress and show them your

beautiful breasts," she says rather too sweetly. I look at her for

confirmation and the shine in her eyes tells me that is exactly what

she wants. Now I'm very very nervous. I've never done this.

Slowly, I pull my dress off one shoulder and Francie shifts to a

position where she can see better. Then I pull the other shoulder

down. The shoulder straps hold my arms to my sides until Ivan pulls

one below my elbow. His hand comes to my lace covered breast, rubbing

the nipple through the thin material. Gasping slightly in surprise, I

feel Francie undo the bra in back and then they both pull it down my

arms until my breasts stand free of the material for their inspection.

I see Linda is sitting on the edge of her chair, a broad smile on

her face. She seems very pleased.

I gasp again as Francie's fingers find my nipple and squeeze it

softly, rolling it sensuously. Thus diverted, my attention is quickly

drawn back when Ivan licks my other nipple and the nerves in it fire

throughout my body. They have pushed the top of my dress and my bra

off my arms altogether, the dress gathered about my waist.

"We're both going to take you, Amy," Francie breathes into my

ear. "That's why Linda brought us here tonight."

"Oh, no," I moan, the feelings in my breasts beginning to

overwhelm me now. "No, please."

"Yes," Ivan says as Francie sucks my other nipple. "I'm going to

fuck your mouth. And then I'm going to fuck your ass." I moan and try

to move away. His mouth lowers to my nipple.

"While Ivan fucks your ass, you're going to fuck me with your

tongue until I come all over your face. And then I'm going to come

again on that little boy pole of yours, before you lose it."

This is no longer even a little pleasant. I'm frightened and I'm

trapped. But somehow I feel the anticipation of what's to come. It's

tearing me apart. Their touches on my body are driving me wild, my

dick hard and still stuck between my legs uncomfortably. My nerves are

firing throughout my body but they don't seem to have a focus.

They continue to touch me but now guide me to my feet, taking me

to the circular hassock at the end of the couch. They seat me on it,

each holding my arm nearest them and, at the same time, my breasts --

my nipples. Linda slides in between Ivan and me almost as if he was

being cut out.

The way she holds my biceps hurts, her fingers digging into my

flesh. I wonder still again if what I've done was really this bad.

"Now, my sweet," she says. "Your initiation into real womanhood."

She is pushing me down onto my back with Francie's help and I

can't free my hands to stop myself. I'm frightened and look from one

to the other. I'm sure my fear is in my eyes.

They've laid me down on my back, my head back to the edge of the

hassock. I close my eyes and feel, even more acutely, their hands play

on my naked front. I try to twist, putting one leg over the other, but

they won't allow it and they are strong enough to hold me where I am.

I hear myself moan when Francie's hand begins to stroke the

inside of my thigh. I clasp them tightly together but it really

doesn't help. I'm losing myself in this. In another circumstance, I

think I could enjoy it. Being forced makes it less fun.

"Come, my darling," Linda hisses near my ear. "You might as well

relax and enjoy it. It's going to happen with or without your

help. Open your eyes now."

They are clenched tightly closed as if I can keep it all from

happening if I don't look.

"Open your eyes now, Amy," Linda says more harshly. I

don't. "Right now!" It's a command. I open my eyes and wish that I

hadn't.

Ivan has stripped and stands above my face as I lift my head a

little. My head now is almost between his knees. All I can really see

is the look on his face. One of lust and enough of a grimace that I

wonder if it is cruelty. But that is beyond my primary focus. His dick

is between me and his face, standing out from his body at a 90 degree

angle. It throbs with his excitement and appears to be very hard.

It's not overly big around, only a little more than my own

now. But is very long. At least 9 inches with its wet head just

peeking from the loose skin of the hood. He's uncircumcised. I've

never seen anyone who wasn't circumcised.

Francie's hand is between my legs, rubbing the inside of my

thigh. I gulp through my dry mouth but I can't take my eyes from it,

like a cobra with a mesmerized rat. And I'm the rat.

"Ah, the perfect angle," he says as he lowers himself to his

knees. Sitting back, he kisses me sensually on the lips, his tongue

delving into my mouth, my view of his strong neck. Both his hands take

my breasts roughly and knead them until it is almost painful before

easing, then repeating the action.

God, I'm getting turned on and I can't. I just can't. It can't be

possible. But I'm breathing hard and answering his probing tongue,

circling it with my own.

"She's ready," he declares as he straightens from my mouth. Then

he rises onto his knees and I see that his dick is lined up with my

face.

His hands wrap in my long hair, pulling my head back around the

edge of the hassock. It's almost impossible to keep my mouth shut.

"Now open, baby," he says softly. "Kiss it for me. Kiss it now."

He's still whispering. When I open my eyes now, all I can see is his

balls hanging beneath that long tool. It seems much shorter from this

perspective. I know what he wants but I can't bring myself to

it. "Please kiss it."

It touches my lips and I shudder. The other time, the guy I was

with only wanted to suck me and then for me to fuck him. I remember

those long years before to that picture that started this whole

thing. But I don't really remember when I'd been fucked. This is

different. Completely different. I know I've never sucked another man

and I don't want to now.

"Kiss it, Amy," Linda urges. "Kiss it or you'll be punished. And

if you cooperate, you will earn a lot from me. More than you can

imagine."

I wonder what she could possibly be saying but for some reason

the combination of threat and promise make the idea more palatable,

more possible. I shape my lips and kiss it and Ivan shudders. I feel

the wetness of it on my lips.

"Lick your lips, Amy. Lick your lips," she almost whispers. I do,

as much to try to alleviate my dry mouth as to do her bidding. It

tastes salty. Not unpleasant but still. I don't want to do more.

"Lick it, sweetheart," Ivan says softly. "Lick it nice for me." I

shake my head. Then I feel Linda's hand on my nipple. She has it

firmly in her grasp.

"Lick it like he says, Amy. Right now." She pinches my nipple

until I clench my eyes with the pain. I shake my head with the pain

and know I can't get out of this situation. I feel so totally

helpless.

"All right!" I finally almost scream and immediately her fingers

loosen. Opening my eyes again, I see that he is holding it close to my

lips and I extend my tongue to lick the head now.

"Oh, yes," he moans as he moves it around on my tongue. I know

what's to come and I know I can't fight it. Linda will just make it

more painful for me if I resist.

"Good girl," she sighs. "Good girl." She says it as if I were a

tiny youngster. "That's it. Keep it up."

I lick around the head, pausing at the little hole in the

tip. His hand has skinned the cloak back from the tip and it flares

like a mushroom. It's purple with his swollen need.

"Now take it in your mouth," he says in the same soft

voice. "Just a little. Softly. Easy now." I let it slide past my

teeth. It's not very big around but I can see that so much of it is

still there. His hand is wrapped around it and still a couple of

inches separates the hand from my lips. "That's it, baby. Just a

little. Take it in."

I swallow hard from my dry mouth, my throat clenching tight in

this unnatural position. Linda's fingers are still touching my nipple

but they are very gentle and loving, inflaming it instead of hurting

it. Francie's hand is between my thighs, softly kneading the skin.

"A little more, now," he says as he moves it further into my

lips. "Shield your teeth with your lips. Yes. That's it. Nice. Good."

His hand and my lips meet. My tongue can move around on the shaft and

I see that it makes him shudder. He moves back out somewhat, then

slowly back in to the fingers again.

"Now, Amy," he says and I can feel a change coming. "I want you

to suck on it. Okay? Just suck."

I know that I must but it takes a second. I swallow again. Yes, I

can do it. I suck gently.

"Ah, yes," he says louder, impassioned. "That's it. Yes. That

feels so good." I shut my eyes and time my sucking to his in and out

movements., mixing them from sucking on the in stroke to sucking on

the out stroke. Yes, this is going to be all right, I think.

This time when I open my eyes I see that he's let go of it now. I

feel his hands go instead to my breasts with loving movements. He's

moaning with his movements.

More than half the long tool is going into my mouth on the in

stroke now.

"Now more, baby," he says sweetly, softly squeezing my full

breasts. "I won't keep it in for long so don't panic. Okay?"

This time when he pushes in, he keeps going until I feel the

still dry skin past where it has been in my mouth before and I swallow

again. When I do, I feel my throat clasp around the head at the back

of my mouth. He immediately pulls back out as I start to gag. I

control it.

This time I know what to expect and as his stroke extends into my

mouth, I don't swallow. But I feel the still dry skin again and feel

it enter the tighter space of my throat for a split second before

withdrawing. It's all right. I CAN do it.

This time, when he comes in faster, I feel his pubic hair against

my lips and his testicles against my nose before he pulls back out. I

took it all! I suck it as it retreats to my lips and nearly slips out.

Immediately, it returns, the pubic hair is pushed hard against my

lips and I can feel his cock well into my opened throat. He pulls out

faster. I moan around it.

"You little cocksucker," Linda says rather sweetly, a smile in

her words. "I knew it." I don't know whether it's a strange kind of

praise or another in her endless string of sarcasms. But, without a

doubt, I am a cocksucker now.

He speeds up his strokes, his hands moving more on my breasts,

perhaps a little more roughly. I have to work very hard not to think

of my own bent dick, bent and painful in its hardness.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck. You're so good. Yes. Yes." I can

hear his climax in his voice.

I actually moan with the loss of it when he pulls free of my

mouth.

"Now," Linda says as I feel her pull my arm roughly, turning me

onto my stomach. I roll onto my other arm for a minute before I can

get it out from under me. Francie immediately grabs it by the wrist as

my legs fall off the side of the hassock.

In shock, I look behind me and see Ivan lift the back of my skirt

and throw it above my ass. He grabs the side of my exposed panties and

easily snaps the material at my hip. The rest of the destroyed article

drops down my other leg. I can feel the material burned spot on my

waist where it was ripped apart.

Clearing his throat grossly, he spits and I watch it fall onto my

naked ass. He does it again and I feel it roll down the sensitive

skin.

"No!" I exclaim but it doesn't matter. He aims his purple head

between my legs and I feel it pushing between the cheeks of my ass. I

try to straighten up and am held down by the two women at the same

time that he roughly pushes my legs apart.

Then he presses harder and it feels like the worst shit I even

had to take.

"Relax, sweetie," he says, the lust in his voice plain. He's not

gentle now. I feel it press harder and try to relax my sphincter,

knowing that it only hurts worse if I'm tight like this. But it

doesn't slow him. He presses harder through the slippery mucus he's

deposited there.

I'm going insane with the pain for a moment, tossing my hair

wildly and silently screaming, not loading the scream with the breath

I can't seem to gain. Then, as if that were all it was waiting for, I

feel the head of his cock gain entry and the pain recedes to more

manageable levels. It's still there but now it is like taking a shit

you can't get rid of. I shift my legs as I might to help in ridding

myself of this turd.

I hear him sigh. "God. Tight." He's moaning the words. "God. So

tight."

He presses forward again and the pain returns somewhat but it's

different. He begins to rock in and out. I can feel it gaining further

entry to me. Further and further. Pressing against my

prostate. Rubbing it. I'm breathing very hard now, searching for

enough air to survive. My hands are tightly clasped to the edges of

the hassock. The women aren't really holding me now.

I can feel his thighs against my cheeks now and know he is all

the way inside me. His hands come to my shoulders, pulling himself

tighter into me, massaging as he pulls out somewhat, then pulling hard

again until his thighs again contact my skin.

It feels good. Oh, it feels wonderful. Oh.

My own dick is pointed toward the floor between my protecting

thighs, held in this position because I'm pressed so firmly against

the side of the hassock. Pumped into the side of it actually. Over and

over. Wonderfully pressed into it.

God, I can feel him deep, deep in my insides. His cock fills me

completely. Wonderfully. "Oh, yes," I scream now. This time it is

aloud. "Yes!"

I feel his body lose coordination as his climax is pulled out of

him. I thought it couldn't get any better than those last few

minutes. But now I feel his hot seed shoot deep into my insides, far

past where his hardness extends. That's all it takes. All I can stand.

My back arches and my eyesight loses coherence. My blood roars

through my ears. And my orgasm wracks my body. I can feel it surging

out of me in thick waves as my body clenches with it. I don't remember

anything like it in my life.

He pulls out most of the way and plunges back in with a loud

moan, then spews again inside me. He does it once more before his body

relaxes around my back.

"Oh, my god," he moans through his quickened, deep

breaths. "Unbelievable."

He pulls back then, still holding my shoulders, until I feel him

slowly retreat from my asshole. My body responds to only the last

inch, finally expelling him and letting me sink into the hassock. I

think I'm going to pass out here with it.

"I can hardly believe it, ladies," Ivan says. "I really think

that was the best fuck I ever had." He laughs. "I know it was the

tightest."

"Come back around here, Ivan," Linda says. "I want that hard

again."

"Oh, baby. I don't think that's possible. At least not for a

while." Linda sighs, the displeasure cutting through my silky blue

afterglow now.

"Then, dammit, help me out," Francie's voice says near my

head. "C'mon, guys. Help me pull her down a little."

I feel Ivan's strong hands on my waist then, lifting a little and

pulling me back until I am solidly on my knees and only my breasts and

shoulders still rest on the hassock. I feel movement but I'm still in

a haze.

"Okay, sweetheart. Time for your new girlfriend."

I open my eyes and see that Francie is sitting on the hassock in

front of me now with her skirt pulled up around her waist. I can see

the considerable wetness glistening in the thick mat of hair between

her legs. When I lift my head, she slides her middle beneath it, her

legs over my arms, trapping them.

Leaning on one elbow, she pushes my face down between her legs

roughly, shifting and squirming until my mouth is in the folds of her

labia. She is very strong smelling.

"Now stick that beautiful little tongue out there and lick up all

that nice girl come." Though I'm exhausted, I can do nothing but hope

that I can do it quickly so I can rest.

She leans back further, making herself more accessible, as my

mouth lowers to her nether lips. Her center is bucking wildly by the

time I finish licking her out, from deep inside her cunt to her

asshole and back. When I press my tongue to the underside of her large

clit and clamp it against my upper lip, she can hardly stay on the

hassock. When I suck it into my lips and lick it with my tongue tip at

the same time, she climaxes terrifically, almost falling off the

hassock in her frenzy. It can't have taken 5 minutes.

Carefully now, wanting to get away from my continuing licks, she

moves off my arms. I collapse back onto my butt on the floor, my head

on the hassock.

I'd like to just sleep for about two days now.

"No, no, sweetie," Linda says. "We have to do some clean up and

wake up now."

She guides Ivan into a sitting position under the place where my

head had been lying only a second before she had Francie pull me

back. I see that, though he is not hard, he is not completely soft

either. He must have enjoyed my work with Francie. Sitting on the edge

of the hassock now, he helps Linda guide my mouth back onto his

cock. His hand on the back of my head, presses down each time he is

almost completely out of my mouth. I try to make him come quickly so

it will be over. He is very hard again.

"Now, my turn," Linda says. Pushing me back onto my haunches, she

turns her back to Ivan and, her skirt hiked onto her hips and panties

off, holds his hard dick as she sits down onto it. I watch as that

length sinks into her until she is sitting fully on his lap. She lays

back against him and kisses him over her shoulder before his hands cup

her tits and his middle begins to pump into her cunt. He spreads her

legs onto the outside of his, then spreads his own, even further

splitting her. Francie nudges me from behind.

I lean forward and begin licking the widely opened stretch of her

crack from the pumping dick that pulls her lubrication out with it, up

to her clitoris. Each time I do that, her body seems to clench and

stretch and cringe and clench again. It's as if she was trying very

hard to get her legs back together. Then further separated. Then

together. Ivan holds her wide open to my tongue.

I watch her body clench in an orgasm, bounding and bobbing and

trying to escape its present fate.

But Ivan holds her breasts and, by them, her upper body. She's

still pinned on his cock, pistoning in and out of her slowly. Francie

urges me forward again.

This time I gently mouth her clitoris until she is again moaning

and cringing. Her movements are driving Ivan closer to his climax.

Carefully, I take my manicured middle finger and press it into

his asshole until my knuckle presses against his sphincter. Then I

flutter my tongue on her clit while I suck it until it is in my mouth

more than an inch. This orgasm overwhelms her.

She screams as if in agony but I don't let go or slow. Her body

bounds and clenches but I don't let go.

"Oh, stop!" she screams. "Please, please, please, stop. Oh, god,

stop." She's freed her hand enough to push at the top of my head but I

still suck and flutter on her clit as Ivan's body clenches in the

throes of its own climax. She stops breathing with the orgasm she

experiences as he shoots deep into her.

Chapter 3

I WAKE MONDAY morning, trying to find the alarm clock. After I shut it

off, I lay back on the pillow, smiling. It had been the first really

good weekend I have had in six months.

Linda took me to her bed Friday night after Francie and Ivan

left, both of us exhausted. The next morning, we slept in until after

noon. She decided we didn't need to bother dressing so we spent the

rest of the day talking quietly, reading, and listening to music in

our nightgowns. Nice. I made the eggs for breakfast, but that night

Linda decided to cook dinner and made one of my favorites. She laughed

and talked with me all evening as she hadn't in the six months since

... Well, I never even mentioned that and she didn't either.

Again, she took me to her bed that night and we made

love. Falling asleep in each others' arms, she told me she loves me.

We got up Sunday and dressed casually in shorts and tee-shirts

for another leisurely day. When she told me we had to clean up, I

thought I knew what was going to happen. Instead, though, she pitched

in right beside me to wash the two days of dishes, to clean up after

Friday night's dinner, and to straighten the house. Together we made

beds, vacuumed and dusted. It was really pretty enjoyable.

Best, she seems to have forgotten her sarcasm or, at least, to

have put it on hold for the weekend.

That's what I'm lying here thinking about now. Was it a dream or

just a respite.

"Get up now and get in the shower," she says from the doorway. I

see her smiling in the doorway, wearing one of her pink baby doll

nightgowns. Then I realize. I've got a lot to do before I can go to

work. I've got to get my hair combed as straight as I can get it and

find a good way to hold it back. I have to get the fingernail polish

off my fingers and trim the nails.

I leap out of bed and into the bathroom to shower. When I look in

the mirror after I dry my hair, it is a frizz of curls around my face

and neck.

"Come dress before you do anything else," she says from the other

side of the door. I'm used to walking around the house nude,

now. Linda's made me do it on and off for six months, particularly the

last few weeks as my breasts blossomed. It still makes me nervous

though and I really don't have time if I'm going to get to work on

time. I rush back out of the bathroom.

I look at the bed where some clothes lay. I don't recognize them.

"I bought you a new suit, sweetheart," she says with a smile of

anticipation. She loves to give presents. I see the garter belt, flesh

colored panties, and stockings beside the tan suit. I pick up the suit

coat and gulp. She's got other plans for me today. I can tell.

The suit coat has wide lapels that taper to two buttons. Normal

so far but that's all. I see the tailored style at the waist and the

deep darts in the front. It's a woman's suit.

And if I had any doubts, the other part is not a folded pair of

pants, as I'd first thought. It's a skirt. I know that nothing I say

will matter, realizing that it isn't over yet as I had hoped it might

be during the weekend.

"Where are you taking me today, Linda?" I ask as nicely as I

can. Work was sort of my break from the rest of my life these last

months. Today she obviously had other plans for me.

"Nowhere," she says. I don't understand. She's still

smiling. "Today's the day you can stop hiding what you are from the

people at the office."

I feel very sad. She's not done with me yet. Now she's ready to

extend my humiliation to my office. The last part of my life that's

mine. The last cruelty. I hang my head.

"I thought you'd be happy, sweetheart," she says, coming to take

me in her arms. "Aren't you?" She looks into my eyes and sees my

sadness.

"I thought you liked being a woman now. Don't you."

"Yeah, I guess," I say softly.

"Well, now you're really a woman. I mean, look at you." She puts

her hands under my breasts. "You're beautiful. You have bigger tits

than I do. You have every bit as good a legs." Her hand goes to my

hair. "With the permanent, your hair looks very nice. I'll bet if we

just blow dry it and brush it a little, it'll be perfect for the day."

She steps away from me now, holding onto my arms and still

looking in my eyes. I have to resolve myself to this. I'm going to my

office today dressed in a skirt. No doubt about it.

"Put on your face first," she says, pushing me toward the makeup

table. "Remember, daytime its lighter amounts of mascara, lighter

colored lipstick, and just a little bit of eye shadow. Okay? I'll go

down and make you some breakfast."

She really thinks this is something nice for me! I can't believe

it. And she hasn't made breakfast for me since this all started.

With a sigh, I make up as she suggested and approve of the

look. Much better than the tart look she has insisted on most of the

time at night.

I put on the garter belt and sit on the edge of the bed to put

the sheer stockings on. They come up much higher than most and the

garter holds at the sides as well as front and back. The panties are

french cut and such a light colored material that I can see through

them in spite of their fairly substantial nature. I tuck my dick

between my legs as I pull it into place.

I look around but don't see a bra. Come to think of it, I don't

see a blouse either. I step into the skirt and zip the short

zipper. It can't be a 20 inch skirt and shows as much thigh, no much

more, than it covers. There are very sensible looking tan pumps that I

put on, approving of the two or two and a half inch heels.

"There's no blouse with that suit, baby," I hear her say from

downstairs and nod to myself. No use looking any more.

I slip my arms into the suit coat then find that I have to inhale

to fasten the button on the inside before I can fasten the outside

one. The tailoring pulls in my waist comfortably if a little tightly.

There's a little black ribbon still on the bed. I've seen these

but never worn one. It just ties around your neck. Very Victorian. As

I tie it, I move to the bathroom mirror to do my hair. First I take

the blow dryer and, holding my hair off my neck, dry up under

it. Leaning my head forward, I dry the top and front. Then the

sides. It doesn't take much since it's been a while since my shower

and I didn't wash it really. Just got it a little wet.

Using the brush, I sort of give the chaos of it a bit of

order. But the order I establish is full of broad waves and a broad

surround of curl. It looks good. I nod.

I start out of the room but remember one of the first things that

Linda always insisted on of me when I was dressed as a woman. I push

the bathroom door closed and look into the full length mirror. I

actually catch my breath at the sight.

I noticed the tailoring of the waist when I put the coat on

because I had to hold my breath to button it. And it is as sharply

tailored to the waist as I thought. But I hadn't thought what it did

to me higher. The front darts and the narrow tailoring pulls my

breasts into a very serious cleavage. It doesn't even stop at just

being a cleavage but is low enough that the tightly pressed together

skin between them shows as a continuing cut. It's too tight to have to

worry about a nipple falling out. But there sure as hell is no doubt

that there is a female body in this coat.

And if that isn't bad enough, the tail of the coat is slightly

long and with the very short skirt, all of about two inches of skirt

falls below the bottom of the jacket. No, less than that. And from the

skirt's hem, there's nothing but long, very shapely legs. I can't help

but smile at the overall effect. This is really a woman!

That damned little ribbon necklace only makes it worse still.

I go down the stairs smiling and into the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," Linda says. "It looks wonderful on you!" Her hands

sort of pick at the lapels where they cross each other as if she'd

cover more of that deep cleavage for me then pulls at the hem of the

skirt without really moving it at all. "You look absolutely

devastating!"

Finally, she turns to the stove and pours eggs out of a pan onto

a plate. I watch the way her buns, under the baby doll nightgown and

around the panties, make a little crease over her thighs. Cute, I

think. She puts the plate in front of me with a grin and sits down

opposite. My coffee and some toast is already there. I eat as she

smiles and watches me, drinking her coffee.

"I wish I could go with you today," she sighs as I eat. "You are

absolutely going to knock them dead! I'd love to see the

reactions. Just love it!" She's getting all excited. "You'll have to

remember every detail and tell me all about it tonight. Okay?" I nod

and finish up the last of the toast. I sit still, my heart fluttering

with anticipation and dread, as I finish my coffee.

* * *

Now's when it's really scary. I made it through the rush hour

traffic with no problem. It's not even hard to drive in high

heels. Then I put the car in the parking structure and walked to the

door to the office. My key card worked on the front door.

Samantha, the receptionist in the lobby, looked at me the whole

time I walked through and into the hallway but she never said

anything. That's when I really noticed the way my ass wags when I walk

in heels like this. I could feel her eyes on my ass all the way down

the hall.

Then I walk past the bullpen where the secretaries all sit. Only

Phillis is at her desk so far. She stares at me while I unlock my

office door and round my desk. When I do, I see her get up and follow

me in. I take a deep breath.

Her eyes are on my cleavage as she speaks to me. "Ah, can I help

you?" she asks.

"Hi, Phillis," I say. She's worked right outside my door for the

last five years. She knows me as well as anyone in the building. She's

flustered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But this is Mr. Brewster's office. And I don't

know you."

"Sure you do, Phillis," I say, trying to bluster through it. Now

she's staring at me. At my face as I try to smile at her.

"Ah," she begins. She doesn't want to make a mistake. "Mike?"

"Yeah, of course, Phillis," I say as if this is the way I look

every day.

"My god!" she whispers. She looks around. "My god!" she says more

loudly. "Mike! Christ Jesus!" She looks back into the bullpen and

takes another step into the room before she closes the door. "Shit,

Mike! What are you doing?"

I can only sit there under her intense inspection. Her eyes go to

my cleavage and I can't help but squirm.

"Oh, shit, Mike! What ...?" She's staring. "You've got ..." She

chokes on the words.

"I've got tits, huh?" I ask. That's obviously what she's looking

at. She giggles nervously.

"Boy, I'll say!" Give her points for honesty at least. As if it

were deniable. I look down at that marvelous cleavage, sort of picking

at the crossover as Linda did earlier with no more result. "Mike?

What the hell's going on?"

I shrug. I'd think it was obvious. "Sit down," I finally

say. Slowly she approaches my desk and sits down in the chair. She's

none too careful with the hem of her dress either. I'm conscious of

that sort of thing now. "Call me Amy, okay?" She shakes her head.

For the next few minutes, I tell her a kind of boiled down

version of what's been happening to me for the last few months. At

least the functional part. Of course, I don't tell her about what

caused it or that Linda has forced everything that's happened to

me. Just the part about slowly changing my dress and my body with the

estrogen. I realize I might as well get this down pat. I'm going to be

repeating it several times today, I can see now.

She exclaims some more and shakes her head and mumbles. Then

finally she makes her way back to the bullpen. During the next few

minutes, I hear a buzz of conversation between Phillis and some of the

other secretaries who have arrived now. I hear "Mike" spoken several

times. Grinning, I also hear "gorgeous" and "tits" and "skirt" and

"hair" as part of exclamations.

One of the girls walks by my office door and almost falls trying

to look at me without being too obvious. I sort of enjoy it. When I

look up from my calendar, I see two of the other girls on the other

side of the bullpen somewhere near their desks, staring at me with

open mouths.

At that moment, Carol rounds the corner into my office door with

a cup of coffee in her hand. She does a kind of unnerved double take

and nearly spills the coffee. Then she sets it down, never taking her

eyes off my face and my cleavage. I have her sit down and go through

the whole thing again.

I can hardly wait until the guys start to arrive. Carol is in

shock as she leaves and I see the other girls giggle and look very

strangely at her when she meets their eyes on the way out. She shrugs.

The guys are starting to arrive now and I can hear the girls

intercepting them at the edge of the bullpen with whispered, "You're

never going to believe ..." and "Mike's ..."

"What the fuck's this I hear ..." Vic says as he turns into my

office door and freezes. He stops as if turned into a statue when he

sees me. Then he looks at the name on the door. Then he looks at me

again. "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought ..." He repeats the whole

process. His stare definitely has an object. It's about a foot lower

than my eyes. I'm suddenly very glad I don't have one of those trendy

glass topped desks or his stare would be much lower than it already

is.

"Morning, Vic. What's new?" I say with a smile. I'm starting to

sort of get a kick out of this.

"Ahhhh," he begins. I'm starting to think this is the statement

of the day. Then he frowns. "Mike?"

I smile. "Of course."

He looks behind himself into the hallway as if he's afraid of

being caught talking to me. Like Phillis before, he quickly closes

the door. "Mike?"

"Yes, Vic. Mike," I say. "Actually, call me Amy. Please."

"Amy," he states. Then I watch him lose his cool

altogether. "Mike, what the fuck's going on? Shit, man. Fuck."

"Just what you see. Do you want the whole story?"

Looking behind him again to ensure the door is closed, he comes

and sits down in my visitor's chair. His eyes flash to mine before

they drop back down to my chest. Then back again to immediately

return. It makes me nervous.

"I gotta hear the whole story." I change the story a little bit

for Vic. He is one of my best friends. I tell him a little more of the

why's and wherefore's.. When I get through the guts of the situation,

he suddenly has a thought, sits back in the chair, throws his head

back, and laughs uproariously.

"What?" I say.

"What?" he asks through the tears of laughter he's wiping

off. "What? Think about Bledsoe's reaction to this."

For the first time, I do. His laughter continues. Then the

intensity of it changes.

"Shit," he almost moans through the laughter. "Now you'll be able

to talk to the old lady while you take a piss." God, I hadn't thought

of that. Exactly where do I take a piss. I've got to think about that

some.

Mrs. Bernice Bledsoe, the owner and founder of our company, is

not going to like this, I think. Only our long history together in the

company will save me, I'm afraid. I'm still not looking forward to the

confrontation.

Finally, Vic's satisfied and, shaking his head, laughs his way

out the door and down the hall to his own office.

For the next hour, I try to do my morning things that usually

take five minutes while a steady stream of co-workers come in to "see"

me and laugh, curse, and leave shaking their heads. Now it's getting

old. The explanation is getting perfected and shortened considerably.

Now, each of the secretaries seems to find an excuse to come into

my office to ask a question or bring me something or something. They

each want a close look. The buzz continues in the bullpen, joined now

by the guys. Even Maxine Tarlow, who usually doesn't talk to anyone on

an average day, is in the bullpen chattering with the best of

them. They've all got theories.

There's a lot of talk about transsexuals and transvestites and

gays and what is and what isn't. The atmosphere is highly sexually

charged all around me. Talking sex, turns you on. It's a proven fact.

My telephone rings and I answer it.

"Mike?" Bernice's recognizable voice says. "I need to see you

before the staff meeting. I've been hearing rather disturbing things

this morning. Well, anyway. Can you come in?"

"Of course," I say before I hang up. I get my note pad and a pen

before I get up and head for my door. Now I take a double take. This

is the first time they're really going to see me today. This ought to

be interesting.

I take a deep breath and march into the bullpen aisle. I've got

to walk the length of it exposed completely. It's not too bad, I

think, nearly at the end of the aisle. Every eye is either on my front

as I approach or on my ass as I walk by. The eyes are quite big and

the mouths are invariably open. I think I'm going to make it.

"Fuck me, Mike!" I hear Vic from halfway back down the aisle

where I passed him a minute before. "You've got gorgeous legs and a

great ass, too."

The girls giggle nervously and several of the guys add similar

comments, complete with wolf whistles. I decide I better not be

sensitive about the whole thing. I turn around at the end of the aisle

and flip Vic the bird with a smile. Then I turn around and flip the

back of the short skirt at him and go on. Everyone bursts into

laughter now.

I knock on Bernice's big office door. Not for the first time, I

think this is ridiculous. A four foot double door, 10 feet tall and

about three inches thick. An intimidating door if there ever was

one. You really expect someone important to be behind it and, I guess

in this case, there is. At least as important as our office gets. I

hear her "come in" barely, from the other side of the door. I open it.

I look at her diminutive person behind the very large desk. I

know, from experience, that she has to have a little six inch footrest

under the desk so her feet can touch down from the overly high chair,

the back of which towers over her. She rarely stands up to talk to

anyone unless, for some reason, she's trapped into it.

Towering at about 5 feet tall or less, she is still perfectly

proportioned and as well appointed -- clothing, makeup and hair -- as

money can make possible.

Now, she is concentrating on something on her desk. I walk toward

the desk through the thick carpet without her head lifting. She is, as

I'm constantly reminded, always completely self- possessed. Finally,

as I stand before the desk, she looks up at me, her mouth open with

her welcome or comment or whatever it had started out to be.

Her first focus is at her eye level. My chest. It trails down to

the short skirt and then slowly back up to my face. I try to smile but

it really is a little hard.

She shuts her mouth. Then nods. "That's what I heard," she says.

"I'd be a bit surprised if anyone in the surrounding 10 blocks

hadn't heard," I say, trying to make the best of it.

"I can understand why." She smiles and, like many others this

morning, shakes her head. "I don't know whether to applaud or be very

upset. God damn it, Mike! You're prettier than I am. And that really

pisses me off."

I laugh out loud. It's the first time I've ever heard her cuss

when she hadn't been drinking hot toddies or martinis for several

hours. She does that at the annual Christmas party and that's it.

"I doubt that, Bernice."

"Well stop doubting. I couldn't any more wear that outfit than

stand on my head for the morning. For one thing, I don't have enough

up here," she pushes up her bosom, "to keep that jacket closed. And

the skirt wouldn't do a thing for me."

She gets more serious and gets up from the high chair to round

the desk to me, really looking me up and down thoroughly. I feel like

I should turn and do, to her approval.

She takes my hand then and leads me to the deep leather couch

against one wall of the office. I've never seen anyone sit on it

before. I sort of perch on the front edge, careful to keep my knees

tightly together.

"So tell me about it," she says leaning her head against her hand

and relaxing into the couch. "I mean everything. The real skinny."

I do for the next 45 minutes without losing her interest for a

moment.

"Where to from here, Mike?" she finally asks.

I shake my head for a moment. "I don't know, Bernice." I think

about this and realize what Linda is thinking. "I don't know how, but

I think Linda wants it to last. I'll go along with her in whatever she

wants."

She nods then. "For what it's worth, Mike ... I mean, Amy -- I'm

going to have to get used to that, I see -- For what it's worth, I

don't particularly like Linda's methods but I do like the results."

She looks at me hard for several minutes. "And I think you do, too."

She stands up then and watches as I get up with her.

"Amy." She's got it now. "I'm going to be watching how you handle

this very carefully. There's good and bad in that. Don't disappoint

me. Okay?"

I smile weakly and nod.

"Tell everybody staff meeting in 15 minutes, okay?" I am

dismissed. She stands with her arms crossed under her breasts,

watching me as I go to the door and leave.

As I pull the big door closed and make my way down the center

aisle again, I stop. Everyone is here, smiling and looking at me.

"Staff meeting in 15 minutes." Everyone begins to scramble for

the materials they'll need for the meeting. Finally, it's broken up

and people aren't just staring at me.

In the next 15 minutes, I put together my reports before going to

the conference room. Most everyone but Bernice is already in the room

and greeting me in various ways. Several are downright obnoxious. Then

the door closes solidly and Bernice, in her no nonsense manner, walks

to her place at the side of the table. She motions to me.

"Sit next to me, Amy," she says. "First item of business," she

announces. "If anyone hadn't noticed before, our friend Mike is now a

very thorough-going woman. Her name is Amy.

"I'll expect everyone at this table to address her as Amy and to

treat her as a lady. If I hear any different, you can start packing

some boxes because sex discrimination and harassment is not tolerated

in this company and never will be. Is that understood?" She looks

around the room at everyone in the way she has perfected to do

that. Only Vic, who can get away with it, looks other than contrite

and compliant.

"Vic," she says with a grin. "I really should have fired you five

years ago."

He looks totally taken back. "What did I do?" he says in a stage

innocence.

"Just see that you don't," Bernice says into the laughter.

I sit back into the soft conference chair, making sure my legs

are crossed and my skirt is as low as I can get it, and get ready for

the meeting. That takes up the rest of the morning, as usual on

Monday.

By the end of the meeting, it's as if there was nothing unusual.

And then I feel the need to visit the bathroom. Immediately, I

turn around and return to the conference room and just catch Bernice.

"What should I do about a bathroom, Bernice?" I ask.

"I don't see the problem," she says.

"I'm biologically a man but I'm dressed as a woman and feel like

a woman. If I go in the men's room, it's hard to tell what the outcome

might be."

"I see," she says. Then she thinks for a minute. "Tell you what.

"First, you're a woman. You use the women's room. But everyone

knows about before. How about you just make it real obvious where

you're going and then if the girls don't want to go in there while

you're there, they have the choice. Okay?"

"That's fine with me. Thank you." I turn and head for the girl's

room, walking through the middle of the bullpen to get there.

When I go into the room, I see that one of the girls is in front

of the mirror with a lipstick but it doesn't look like anyone is in

the stalls. She knows me and doesn't seem affected. I go in the first

stall, pull up my skirt and down my panties and relieve myself. I

reverse the procedure before I flush and leave the stall.

As I wash my hands, I look critically into the mirror and

straighten some curls. Later I'll have to replace the lipstick I've

worn off. I fix a small spot that's crept over my lipline a bit. As I

stand there, four of the secretaries come into the room

chattering. They see me but they don't slow. Two go straight to the

stalls and the other two to the mirror beside me.

One asks me where I bought my suit and I have to tell her Linda

bought it and I'll have to ask. They understand. One of the girls

coming out of a stall, still has her skirt up to her hips, pulling her

blouse down, as she walks to the mirror.

I think I'm accepted.

* * *

When I return to my office, Vic is sitting in the visitor's chair

doodling in his notebook. I shut the door behind me.

"Went to the little girls' room, huh?" he says with a silly

grin. I nod. "How was it? I mean, was Phillis in there with her skirt

over her head or something? Maybe Sam. Shit, that'd be something. I'll

bet she's got a cute little ass."

"Just a couple of the other secretaries," I answer. "Sorry."

"Hey, I know," he says in a confidential voice. "You can tell me

which of the girls aren't wearing panties. Then I'll know which ones

to watch, okay?"

I just laugh. "You'll never grow up, will you Vic?"

"Hey! That's grown up."

I walk to the side of my desk in front of him and look

down. "Besides this adolescent need for knowledge, what can I do for

you?"

"You're doing it right now," he says as his eyes rove up and down

my body. "God, I can't believe it. One day my funny little buddy. The

next day, a beautiful chick with a set of knockers to die for." I look

down at the cleavage the jacket forms.

"Yeah. This coat is outrageous, isn't it?"

"Outrageous!" he agrees. "Come here a second." He motions me

toward him and leans forward in the chair. I take a step forward and

his hand comes out and snags the single button of the front of the

jacket.

"Vic! What are you doing?" I whisper, not wanting the whole

office to hear.

"I've got to see what that coat is covering up." He unbuttons the

button. Luckily the other, interior button holds it closed still.

"Vic! Good god!" I don't react fast enough and he undoes the

interior button as well. I just catch it before he can open it.

"Ah, c'mon, Mike. Christ. How many times have we sat around in

some little dive and looked at the chicks. Speculating on what they

were wearing or trying to get a peek up their skirts or whatever. Now

you've got it and aren't going to show your old buddy?"

I just look at him, my arms holding the jacket closed.

"Are they real, Mike? I mean, are they like silicone implants or

fake or what?"

"No. They're real. Linda's been giving me estrogen for months and

they grew."

"Nipples and everything?" I nod and smile as his dirty grin

broadens. "Are they sensitive? Like a girl's?"

"Yeah. They are."

He looks around. His bargaining look. Searching for a trade.

"Listen. I'll give you the Barnes deal if I can look at

them. Okay?"

"The Barnes deal?" He barely aced me out of the deal in the first

place. "You'd give it to me for just that? No strings?"

"Yeah. You got it."

"You'll have the file on my desk this morning?" He looks through

the papers he's holding under his pad on his lap and pulls one out. He

drops it on the near edge of my desk. There it is.

"Barnes will like working with you a lot better than me anyway,"

he says. "Actually, I was going to give it to you before. But now it's

a deal." He smiles at me and I can only sigh. I put my hands down to

my sides.

His lewd smile fills his face as he reaches out to me and, as if

he's opening a Christmas present, lifts one side of the jacket. Then

he lifts the other side and slowly spreads them until I feel the cool

air of the room on the outsides of my breasts where they have sweat

under the jacket's material.

"Fuck me, Charlie," he sighs. "You've got the best set of tits I

ever saw." It makes me smile. My nipples have hardened to little knots

under his scrutiny. One hand pushes the coat out and finds my naked

side. Then the other does the same thing.

"Vic, I don't think ..." I start but I stop when his fingers

close over my distended nipples. "Vic," I whisper as my hands go to

his arms to push him away. I can't get a good angle though. He just

looks into my eyes and my open mouth where I am trying to draw enough

air to sustain me now. "Vic."

His hands quickly return to my side and he pulls me toward him. I

catch myself before I fall over him, by putting one knee in the chair

between him and the arm. His tongue licks my left nipple. It's like

fire and though it burns brightly in the one spot, remnants of it

stream through my body.

"God, you do like that, don't you?" I can only nod. He kisses the

skin between my breasts and then presses them to the sides of his

face. I can hear him mumble but the sound is buried in the skin. He

moves to the other nipple and sucks it hard into his mouth for a

moment, his tongue playing on it inside his mouth. It feels wonderful

and I'm breathing very hard now.

He sits back away from me then and I blush at the way he's

looking at me, his smile spreading.

"Just one more thing I've got to know," he says. His hands slide

down my hips until he reaches the hem of my short skirt. I start to

step away as his hand lifts it but he catches me with one hand and

pulls it up to my waist. "Cute panties," he says softly.

He holds onto the waistband and hem of the skirt with one hand

while the other touches the silky front of the panties. His fingers

move down to my tummy through the material and then to the junction of

my legs. His fingers trace the bent top of my dick down between my

legs. Low, between my legs, he pulls the material aside and my

partially hardened dick falls out in his hand.

"There he is!" he exclaims. "I was afraid there for a minute that

there was nothing at all left of the old Mike." He laughs.

There are two taps on my door that attract our attention to it as

it starts to open. Thank god for those two taps. I stand free of him

and turn my back to the door. I clasp the front of the jacket together

and quickly button the outside button, covering myself. The skirt has

fallen back into place as I walked around the end of my desk and

quickly slide into my chair under it.

"Amy?" a voice says before I round my desk. I know I'm blushing

as I sit and turn to look at her. "Oh, Vic! I'm glad you're both

here."

He quickly stood up to allow her to sit in the chair. Then he

pulled the other chair from its place behind the door and sat down as

well.

"I see you've already given her the Barnes file as I asked," she

said. I looked at Vic and saw his coy grin. Hell of a deal he gave

me. He didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Fill us in,

Vic."

"Okay. First, you both know that William Barnes is one of the

biggest publishing houses in the country. Seventy plus titles a

year. And now he's getting into audio, CD-ROM, on-line services, and

all the other popular areas of publishing. A few weeks ago, he began

working on some ties with several newspapers for use on the on-line

services. We're helping in that." He grinned.

"What you may not know is that Barnes, while being among several

large publishers, is easily the biggest pornographer in the

country. Five magazines, video tapes, adult stores, and an assortment

of other activities. Now he's spreading these activities to the

computer networks and direct sales on CD's through the computer

magazines. I know of three bulletin board systems he operates that

specialize in this form of entertainment. But I'm sure that's just the

tip of the iceberg.

"The contract to help him with the 'legitimate' enterprises is

fairly good. Nothing particularly outstanding, of course. What I think

we can help with more is this other, more secret area of his

interests." He shifts uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, he is not much affected by anything I've said to

him. He's not the least interested in anything a guy has to say to

him." He looks at me now. "And the point of this trade in the file. He

is greatly affected by women. The more exotic and exciting, the

better."

Now he's looking at me with that grin again.

"There is no woman in my experience as exotic and exciting as

Amy," he says. "You're a natural."

"I agree," Bernice says. "Amy? Anything you need to help with

this, just tell Phillis. If there's any problem, tell me and I'll

smooth the ways. Okay?"

I can only nod.

She stands and goes back to the door. "You two be careful," she

says. "You never know who might come in the door."

I know she saw at least a little of what was going on now. I

wasn't sure before. I blush as she closes the door behind her.

"Deal, huh," I say to Vic.

"Hey! It worked didn't it." He laughs.

Chapter 4

I SPENT THE rest of the day going over the Barnes file until I knew

every detail. Then I called and made an appointment for the next day

-- actually night since the only time he had available is tomorrow

night. But I'll get a free dinner out of it anyway.

I did get an invitation to tour his facilities during the day

though he won't be available. His special assistant will take me

around.

I have the feeling that I am very much going to be on display all

tomorrow so I'll see what Linda has that I can wear during the day

tomorrow and I made a date with Phillis to go shopping in the

afternoon so I'll have something for the evening.

As I pull into the driveway, I'm just glad to have made it

through the day and that I'm home at last.

"Linda?" I call as I go through the front door.

"In here," she calls from the living room. When I walk through

the door, I'm startled. She smiles as I see her. She's been busy.

Her hair is newly done and looks wonderful. I tell her

that. She's also dressed in what has to be a new outfit. It's a

lightweight blue chiffon material with puffy sheer long sleeves and a

very low cut front that shows her off beautifully. The flounced skirt

is the same material and short as all the things she likes seem to

be. Blue eye shadow makes her blue eyes even bluer.

"Shopping?" She nods.

"And wait until you see what I bought for you." She doesn't even

let me sit down but leads me upstairs by one hand. She leads me into

her room -- what used to be our room and I see a white dress and some

other material on the bed but she shoos me into the shower.

When I come out, she's sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for

me.

"You're going to love this," she says. She indicates I should sit

down on the other side of her and then starts feeding me pieces of

clothing. First a lace garter belt and very light colored stockings. I

put them on.

Then she hands me the white, lacy teddy and I get into it. It has

spaghetti straps and really doesn't hold my breasts at all

well. Really they're loose inside the lightweight material. It does

have a little elastic in the waist and snaps firmly between my

legs. As I start to tuck my dick back, she tells me it probably isn't

necessary and that the front is firm enough to hold me tightly. It

does look okay.

Then she gives me a fairly sheer half slip that's almost

useless. It barely covers my lap. Then she bunches the dress so she

can guide it over my head and helps me find the long sleeves. After

my head comes back out, I see that it is pure white lace from top to

hem. The lace is in little rose patterns about two inches across and

all intricately connected. Only the neck seems to be any thicker and

this only to allow the few buttons up the back to have some place to

be. The high, frilled collar stands up high under my chin. The frilled

cuffs fall over the back of my hands.

I can't help but laugh. The dress has the longest skirt I've seen

Linda pick out. To the top of my knees. But, of course, the entire

thing is completely see-through lace. No lining, no nothing. If I

weren't wearing the half slip, I would practically be naked. And

without the teddy, I WOULD be naked.

She hands me the white patent shoes that are pointed toed but,

behind the toe part, only a pair of thin leather thongs that go around

my foot. A tiny gold slide tightens them across the instep. They are

actually delicate. The heel is normal at the top but as it tapers down

quickly until it almost disappears. The point of it can't be more than

a quarter of an inch across. They're about four or four and a half

inches tall, making them the highest I've ever worn.

She takes me to the makeup table and I see just how Victorian

beautiful the dress really is with the high lace making my neck look

like it is about a foot long. She says she got the idea when she saw

me with the little black neck ribbon this morning.

She applies a heavy coat of green eye shadow, dark mascara and

pencil. My eyes absolutely leap out of my face. Dark red lipstick does

the same for my lips and blush brings out my cheek bones. Darker

brownish blush hollows my cheeks.

A cameo pin at my throat seemed to top the outfit. But then she

brought out a small gold chain and I knew this would make it

perfect. An ankle bracelet with a tiny cameo on it. I'd never felt so

feminine.

A quick brush of my hair and we walked to the car.

Linda drove and tonight, I knew, was going to be different. She

drove directly to the club.

The club is where all our personal friends go and most of my

business contacts. Bernice belongs as does Vic and most of the other

people in the office above secretaries.

"Another coming out party," I sigh when we arrive.

"No, no. Friday was your coming out party. And today was truth

day at work. Now it's truth time for the rest of the people we know. I

can hardly wait to hear about your day at work," she held up her hand,

"but wait until dinner. We can talk all we want then."

She leans over and gently kisses me on the lips and then backs

away to open her door. I get out as well.

Negotiating my way across the parking lot, up the stairs at the

front of the club, and through the lobby is more than a little

difficult on the high heels but I made it. She guided me toward the

dining room.

Morris leads us to a table by the windows overlooking the tennis

courts and almost bursts with excitement as he holds our chairs for

us. We order drinks and look at the menu for a few minutes.

When Morris brings back the drinks and introduces Dave, our

waiter, we order. Linda asks him to hold off until we are almost

finished with our second drink and he agrees.

"Now," Linda says with a broad smile. "Tell me all about your

day."

"Wait," I say. "First I have to clear some things up. Linda,

what's going on?"

She looks at me like she couldn't possibly understand. "Going on?

Nothing. We're just going out to eat."

"No, I mean Friday night you set me up. You invited two people

I'd never met to the house and systematically raped me for four

hours. It was just the culmination of what's been going on for six

months.

"All during the weekend, you treated me like you did before the

pictures came in the mail. I felt like we were equals and, at least,

friends again. Almost like we were husband and wife again." Looking

down at the dress I'm wearing I think how silly that statement is. "At

least like college roommates or something.

"Then, today you give me no alternative but to go to work dressed

as a woman. I didn't know whether I was going to get fired, cause a

riot, or what."

"Did you get fired?"

"No."

"Then that was all right. And didn't you enjoy the weekend?"

"Yes. I did."

"Now the big one. Did you enjoy Friday night?"

I hesitated for quite a while. "Yeah," I sighed. "Most of

it. Yeah."

"So what's the problem?"

"Linda?" I say exasperated now. "For the last six months you've

treated me like your worst enemy. You've treated me worse than you

would a dog. I feel off balance. I don't know what to expect

next. It's driving me crazy."

She looks at me with a funny smile on her face. She looks for a

long time, even taking a long drink of her martini and giving me a

chance to do the same thing. Then she starts to talk to me.

"Amy," she says pointedly, using my new name. "Six months ago, I

was married to a guy named Mike. And suddenly I realized I didn't know

him and from what I found out in those days, I didn't like him either.

"So I set out to make some changes. I loved you enough to make

the effort. To make some basic changes in you that I thought would

make it right again. I know I was hard on you. The Tampax," she looks

at her hands. "Maybe that was a little too rough. But I succeeded.

"Amy, I remade you both mentally and physically into something we

could both understand and control."

I can't keep from feeling resentment. And I certainly don't feel

safe and secure though the way I'm dressed now gives me less concern

than it would have a week ago.

"What's next, Linda? Do we go back to the Tampax and the made up

housework and the little humiliations?"

"No, sweetheart. That's over now. I've done what I intended and

it wouldn't serve any purpose. It also had the value of getting me

over my anger. I was very very angry six months ago."

"I noticed," I say. She laughs.

"At least now you know how it feels to be cheated on and what it

feels like to work for someone all day without their even noticing or

caring. You know what it feels like to be walked on and humiliated."

She grins. "You even know what it feels like to get

fucked. Literally."

"And what about this, Linda," I ask, gesturing toward myself, my

clothes.

"I think you make a much nicer woman than you did a man," she

says. "And I think you know it as well as I do."

I think about it then. I'm not sure yet. But I think maybe she's

right. I do like being a woman. It just feels good.

"So tell me about your day," she says. For the next hour and two

more drinks, I tell her about everything that happened. It's almost as

much fun in the telling as in the doing.

When I notice Vic come through the door into the dining room, I

cringe, remembering one thing I didn't tell Linda and that I don't

intend to tell her either. Of course, he immediately sees us and comes

to the table.

"I don't believe it," he says. "I thought the suit you were

wearing today was the most fantastic thing I'd ever seen on a

woman. Now I see you in this!"

I grin. Linda says, "You're making me feel very inferior, Vic."

"Never, my sweet," he says as he leans down and kisses

her. "You're as gorgeous as always."

He looks back at me. "Who picks out your clothes, Amy? My god

that is a sexy thing."

"Linda picked out both the suit and this outfit," I say and he

tips a non-existent hat to her. "But you ought to see it all!"

"All? Oh. Oh no. Is this another of those skirts?" I just

smile. "Okay, I give up. I've got to see it all. Stand up."

He offers me his hands and raises me to my feet. Then, standing

back as far as he can while still holding my hand, looks me up and

down with special interest in the skirt and the half slip under it. He

keeps shaking his head and his hand has gone weak.

"My god! It's unbelievable!" he exclaims. "Oh and that fucking

ankle bracelet turns me on so bad ... I think I'll just have to throw

you down on the floor right here."

"I could hear Vic from the lobby," Bernice's voice says from

behind him. When she sees me and looks me up and down once, she looks

as if she might faint. "My god. I see why he was exclaiming in his

typical patois. That dress is absolutely magnificent. Where did you

get it?"

"I didn't. Linda got it for me." Bernice notices her then for the

first time.

"Oh, darling Linda. How are you tonight? You really must tell me

where you are shopping. I understand you bought the suit Amy was

wearing today as well." Linda looks pleased.

"I knew that if I came to the club tonight, there'd be at least

one beautiful woman I could snuggle up to," Vic says. "Bernice, would

you join me?"

She nods. "Safer, Bernice," I say. "Why don't you both join us?"

"Fine. This'll be great! I can play footsy with Bernice like I

intended all along, I can look at that fantastic lace dress, and I can

hug my favorite girl." He puts his arm around Linda as he sits down at

the table next to her. Morris holds the chairs for Bernice and I

before asking for drink orders and leaving.

"So, celebrating?" Bernice asks.

"Yes," Linda says. "Amy's first day at work. She's been telling

me about it all."

"Quite a shock for us," Bernice says.

"Yeah, to say the least. You go to work on a Monday morning and

find that your best buddy has turned into a gorgeous woman

overnight. Hell of a deal! And now all the secretaries are jealous

when they aren't too busy chattering to get any work done." Everyone

laughs.

"And what's worst. My buddy spends half the day in the little

girls' room and won't even take pictures for me."

Bernice just shakes her head in disbelief.

"Speaking of the little girls' room, would you excuse me?" she

says then. I feel a little silly but her statement reminds me that I

have been putting that off as well.

"Would you mind if I went with you?" I ask.

"Here, honey," Linda says, handing me her purse. I know it has

some lipstick and a brush in it.

"See what I mean?" Vic says loudly as we walk across the

increasingly more crowded room. I shake my head as well, now.

As I walk into the restroom, I look around. I've never been in

the women's room here, of course. The men's room is fairly spectacular

as bathrooms go. It has a stone wall, washed in water like a

waterfall, for a urinal and a couple of kingly seats along with the

huge sinks with their gold handles. A king's room in a way. And if

that's the king's room, this has to be the queen's.

I don't slow much to look at the accommodations on the way to a

stall and neither does Bernice. The stall is very large and completely

enclosed rather than simple metal stalls. The plumbing is imbedded in

the same kind of stonework that makes up the urinal in the men's. Very

comfortable and private.

I do what's necessary and get my teddy, slip and skirt back in

place before opening the door. The wall in front of me is a series of

inlaid sinks with room beside each for makeup and other

necessities. One area is low and has a makeup stool in front of it for

major repairs, I'd guess.

The indirect lighting is very bright to allow you to see yourself

though it is a combination of fluorescent and incandescent so it seems

like daylight. The mirrors extend from the sink level to the

ceiling. The end wall, between the stalls and sinks, is all mirror to

let you check everything out from top to bottom.

I open the purse and run the brush through my hair a few times to

take care of some of the more unruly strands. Just a touch of lipstick

takes care of the smears from my drinks. I put the things back in the

purse as Bernice comes out of the stall and steps to the sink beside

me. She repeats my actions.

"That is one of the prettiest dresses I've ever seen, Amy," she

says.

"Thank you," I reply. "Linda's very good at picking out sexy

women's clothing."

"Yes. That jacket you were wearing today was spectacular. Very

complimentary to someone with the right assets and you certainly seem

to have those." She finished her touchups and was looking at me

solidly now. "Those are real, I guess. Hard to fake, I know."

"Yes," I assent. "Estrogen pills for the last six months."

"It's odd. I hadn't really noticed. I mean when you were dressing

as a man last week."

I nod. "It was getting very uncomfortable to tie them up that

tightly though. Particularly during the warm weather."

"My god, I can imagine." She puts her hand to her own ample

bosom. "I'd certainly hate to be tied up that way for very long."

The way she is studying me, I know she has another question but I

can't guess what it might be. I just wait since she isn't moving to

leave.

"I was wondering," she begins. She looks slightly

embarrassed. Something I haven't seen from her. I touch the back of

her hand and smile. "Okay. I was wondering if you've, you know, had

surgery or what?"

"Oh. No. I haven't. I haven't even thought about it."

"Doesn't the estrogen have an affect?"

"Yeah, it did for a while. Really, I guess a long term effect,

too." Now I'm embarrassed. I don't know how deeply to get into this.

"I know. This is really none of my business."

"Of course it is. I work for you and you have a right to know." I

think though what it is I want to say. "The estrogen," I begin. "First

it did away with my sex drive for a while but that seems to have

returned. The longer term result may be that my testicles have

shrunken and my body doesn't seem to produce very much semen. And,

well, my penis is smaller, too."

"Really?" she almost states, surprised. I nod. "Does that make

you uncomfortable? I mean, are you worried about it?"

"No," I shake my head slowly. I hadn't really thought about it

much but it doesn't bother me now that I do. "No. That's all

right. Maybe sort of a small price to pay for all the benefits.

"Benefits. Really? How interesting. What benefits do you see?"

"Well, to an extent, being taken care of. Linda's been doing

that. And the clothes. I really like the clothes." I blush for a

second at my next thought. "And I like the attention. A lot."

She leans close to me and smiles broadly as she touches the back

of my hand softly. "So do I. It's my favorite part of being a

woman. Having men look at me and want me."

I smile. She really does understand and doesn't think it's

conceited or silly.

"You're a very pretty woman. I'm just a little surprised that

... well, before ... I never noticed that you even had the

potential. You weren't a particularly effeminate man." She shifts now

and looks a little uncomfortable. "I'm still curious, I'm afraid. And

I'll certainly understand if this is too much to ask but ..." She

takes a deep breath and presses on. "Would you mind very much if I

asked to ... see it? I mean, under your skirt. You know."

"See?" I ask, a bit flabbergasted. I've got to think whether I

care or not. Finally, I decide that I don't really care. "No, I guess

that would be all right."

"Here, then. Just step back into this stall," she holds my arm

and guides me back into the stall. Then she pushes the door shut

behind her and sits down on the toilet seat with the lid down. She

reaches for the hem of my skirt and lifts it far enough that I can

catch it without bending. The half slip is already at the tips of my

fingers.

"What nice lace!" she says. "It's not hard and rough like most

but it still looks crisp."

I pull the skirt and slip to my waist.

"Oh, you're wearing a teddy. I see. Does that hold you firmly

enough?"

"Yes, it seems to and it's much more comfortable than

usual. Usually, I have to tuck it back between my legs with panties

because the fronts aren't strong enough or big enough to hold me

right. This was a special new thing tonight."

"Really? You've worn women's clothing before today?"

"Yes. Of course. All the time but when I'm at work for the last

six months."

"Really?" she says, startled. "And all that time with it tucked

between your legs?" I nod.

"At first, Linda had me tie it back with a cloth strap."

"What?"

"Yeah, it wrapped around it a couple of times, went between my

legs and then tied around my waist. But then I got used to not getting

turned on very often and she decided to try some more revealing

clothes that would have showed the strap."

"May I see?" she asks. She seems to be really anticipating this.

I simply spread my legs a little and unsnap the teddy between my

legs. The elastic and its natural stretchiness pulls it up. I fall

loose.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "It is quite small. Was it always that small

when soft?"

"Maybe a little bigger," I say. She touches it and it loses some

of its softness. She looks at it in her fingers, turning it from side

to side. It's not making it any softer. With a start, I realize that

it's quickly getting hard.

"Amazing," she says, looking up at me. "Your nipples are getting

hard as fast as this. I guess that's reasonable though. It's the same

process." Her other hand comes to my left breast.

"Bernice?" I say tentatively.

"Yeah, I wanted to do this in my office today. But, at the same

time, I didn't want anything work related to it. I mean, that would be

like sexual harassment. Something I won't put up with in the least in

the office."

Now I am hard. In both places. I shut my eyes to feel the

feelings of it. Then I feel something else. Her lips on my cock and,

at the same time, her fingers tightening on my nipple. Both feel

wonderful.

"I just have to do it, Amy. I can't help myself." Her mouth

closes over me, sucking it into the depths of it and her tongue moving

about on it in a frenzy.

"Oh, Bernice!" I hear myself exclaim. "Oh." The hand that is not

holding up my skirt and slip, strokes the top of her head as her head

moves in and out. She moves out until it drops from her lips and

smiles up at me.

"It's pretty good sized when it's hard," she notes. Her mouth

drops back over it and sucks it up as far as possible, sucking hard

and moving in and out. Her suction alone would pull my body forward

and back. But then she reaches around and puts her hand on my butt and

pulls me into her mouth completely. I can feel myself at the back of

her throat.

"Oh, Bernice!" I moan. "Look ... ah ... look out. I'm ..." But I

don't get it out. The come is pulled from my body, almost as if it is

being turned inside out by her suction. And she's squeezing my nipple

very hard now and that feels wonderful, too. I can only put my head

back with my mouth open wide to try to draw in breath.

There might not be too much, but she swallows every drop before

it stops and she sits upright again. She strokes the inside of my

stocking covered thighs as she apparently watches it diminish back

toward its normal size again. It may have recovered, but I haven't

quite yet. I can still just catch my breath.

I put my hand on the back of hers where it still plays

distractedly with my nipple, stopping her.

"Thank you, Bernice," I say.

"I had to see for myself," she says. I only nod. I'm not quite

sure I know what she had to see but I'm glad she did. "Let me help you

with this."

She reaches between my legs, forcing me to spread them somewhat,

and gets the back of the teddy. Then she snaps the front and back

together between my legs. Finally, she seats my dick in the pouch it

forms at the front. Now soft again, it's quite comfortable. And

satisfied, I think.

Then she helps me pull down the half slip and skirt, rubbing it

where it falls over my stomach and thighs, admiring it.

"I really like that dress," she says. "I'll have to ask Linda

where she got it."

When she stands, I bend a little and kiss her lips. "Thank you,

Bernice. I liked that a lot."

"Well, maybe it'll make getting through the rest of the evening a

little easier anyway." I smile at her thought. I don't really think

that's why she did it.

On the way past the mirror, she repairs her lipstick

quickly. Then we leave the restroom.

Chapter 5

BERNICE ACTS LIKE nothing at all happened as we both sit down again at

the table. Vic and Linda don't even seem to have missed us. It even

takes a few minutes before they even notice our return.

"How was it?" Vic asks.

"How was what?" I ask since he's looking at me.

"The little girls' room, of course. What would I be talking

about?" It's almost like he knows what happened and I have to think

quickly to keep my blush from showing.

"It's actually prettier than the men's room," I say reasonably

quickly. "But all the mirrors aren't as neat as that waterfall."

"The bidet must be great though. Like a fountain in Rome or

something," he says.

"Bidet?" I didn't see one.

"Yes," Bernice says. "I didn't show it to you but the bidet is

really quite nice."

"I like the chairs and the chaise lounge," Linda says. I blush

again since I didn't see them either. "It's sort of homey with the

magazines and stuff."

I nod but, since I didn't see it, I'm not going to comment.

David brings the dinner along with a bottle of wine that Vic has

ordered and before very long, we're finished eating and have consumed

that bottle and another. Vic orders a cognac for himself and some kind

of very large drinks made from orange sherbet and rum. They're sweet

and good like a milk shake or something but I can almost immediately

feel the booze as it lays on top of the before dinner drinks and wine.

"Let's move out on the balcony," Bernice says then and since it's

a nice night, we all quickly agree.

As we cross the room, it makes me a little uncomfortable to have

all the eyes on me. Everyone, both men and women, seem to look up and

to follow with their eyes as I walk by. Bernice stops and talks to

two or three people but even the people I know don't speak to me

because they probably don't recognize me, I guess. I don't speak to

them either since I'm pretty tired of explaining the whole thing over

and over again.

We sit at a low glass topped table on the rattan chairs, each

covered with thick pillowed cushions. They're very comfortable but

I've always thought they were a little too low slung. Great in a

bathing suit or tennis outfit in the afternoon. They naturally sort of

lay you back to catch the sun or to relax after a game or swim. But

they bend back too far for a dress and are even a little uncomfortable

when you're dressed as a man because of the getting in and out of

them.

You practically have to bent double to reach your drink right in

front of you. And, suddenly, not being too slow, I see why Vic wanted

to do this tonight.

Bernice and Linda seem confident enough sitting in the chairs but

I have a little trouble. I sit on the forward edge then sort of slide

back a little into the pocket of the seat while carefully keeping my

knees together. Then I can cross my knees. The angle from my waist to

my knees aims directly at Vic's eye level.

At least Linda and Bernice have as much trouble keeping their

skirts down as I do, though theirs aren't as well lined up with Vic's

gaze as mine. When I reach for my drink, I really understand.

I look up at Vic and he is looking at me. I know that if the

teddy has fallen even a little away from my body, he can probably see

my bellybutton. When I look down and put my hand to my chest, I can

see my breasts and nipples plainly. I vow to hold my drink in my hand,

now that I've got it.

I hadn't finished my drink when Vic ordered another round.

We all talked animatedly, a function, I'm sure, of our drinks. I

found myself pulling my skirt down again and again as it slid up my

legs toward my lap. When Bernice and Linda decide to go to the

bathroom, Linda leans to my ear and tells me my half slip has slid up,

too. As Vic watches the two women walk back into the dining room, I

lift the sides of my skirt and pull it back down, trying to tuck it

between my legs a little in the process. When I get the skirt back

where it belongs, I look up and meet Vic's smiling eyes on my legs.

"Don't cover up," he says with a grin. "I like the view. You're

really quite enjoyable to watch."

I can only thank him. After a few minutes of just looking at me

until I'm squirming under his scrutiny, he moves over into Bernice's

seat next to me. He speaks in a quiet, confidential tone.

"Is this really going to work?" He looks seriously at me. "Mike,

this is your old buddy. Is this going to work? I mean over the long

haul?"

I really haven't had time to think about it and only recently

began thinking I had any say in it anyway. Linda's been doing all the

decision making for me for the last six months, all the guiding. Maybe

I only think I have any say in anything now. After all, she's still

buying my clothes and telling me what to wear and when. But I really

think that things are changing and that my life is again becoming my

own.

Then my thoughts dwell on what I really want. The subject of

Vic's question. I begin thinking aloud.

"I don't know, Vic," I say.

"Do you like this? I mean, the dressing up and being treated like

a beautiful woman?"

I grin. "Wouldn't you?"

"Well, no," he says as seriously as he ever gets. "I like being a

man and I'd be very uncomfortable as a woman. Besides, I'd be an ugly

woman and no one would care to look at me much."

I laugh with him. "You think I have a choice?"

"Sure. It's your life. You've always got a choice. And I know

Linda wouldn't make you do anything for the rest of your life that you

didn't want. Even if she is madder than hell at you now. If it hasn't

changed for you already, I'm pretty sure it will pretty soon."

"Yeah," I say. "I think you're right."

"So, when she says, 'Make your own decisions,' what are you going

to decide."

I shake my head. I really haven't thought about anything past the

moment for months.

"Did you like being a man?" he asks.

"Sure, yeah."

"Obviously, you enjoy being a beautiful woman. I mean that

comment about 'Wouldn't you?' when I asked."

"Yeah, I do."

"I don't think you can have it both ways, buddy," he says

then. "I mean, you couldn't put on a pair of Levis and a tee-shirt and

go hoist a few at the belly bar tonight."

The belly bar is what we called a local strip joint we used to go

to every now and then. And occasionally we really did just put on a

pair of jeans and a tee-shirt after working on the car for the

afternoon, a go have a pitcher or two of beer. I could see myself in a

tee-shirt now, fingernail polish and permanent in my hair. I'd be part

of the show instead of just one of the patrons.

"At least, it would take some work. I'll admit that. And I

couldn't go one way and then the other with any ease. Just my hair," I

pointed out.

"Yeah. I've thought for a couple of months that that long pony

tail you've been wearing was looking a little faggy." I nod with

understanding. "I was really bothered about two weeks ago when I

glanced over at the urinal and thought I could see you wearing

panties. You were, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I haven't worn anything else for the last six months."

"No, shit! Didn't you worry about getting caught?"

"Sure. But I didn't really have any choice."

"Shit!" he says vehemently. "If you really didn't want to, you

could have stopped by Penney's on the way to work and bought some

underwear for work. Or you could have just left and come move in with

me."

I nod again in agreement. "You're right, Vic. I guess I've wanted

this -- and to keep Linda -- as much as she did."

"Then what are you going to do?" I shrug.

"I've got to think about it, I guess."

"Yeah, I think so."

Bernice and Linda came back then and I watched as Bernice sat

down across from me, trying to manage her skirt as I had and failing

pretty badly. She had the additional problem of her short little legs

that didn't quite reach the floor and made her lay back in the chair

even further than I had to.

She and Linda continued a conversation they had started in the

bathroom In a break in the conversation, I ask my question.

"Bernice? I'm going to get some clothes tomorrow afternoon for my

Barnes interview. Will the company pick up the tab?"

"Of course," she says matter-of-factly. "I ought to go with you

and get some things for myself."

"Well," I say. "I don't think you'd be particularly interested in

the clothes I intend to pick out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think Mr. Barnes would be more interested in a little

tackier outfit than you wear."

"Of course," she says with realization. "You're right. That kind

of thing will be better for your interview. Good thinking."

When Linda asks about Barnes, we all fill her in on the Barnes

publishing monolith, complete to the more nefarious parts of his

empire. We also discuss how we want into the porn part of the business

as it applies to computer related outlets that we know best. She

understands.

Vic asks me if I'd like to walk off some of the drinks and I

agree. We leave and I don't hear the conversation that ensues.

* * *

"Linda, I've known you and Mike for many years," Bernice

says. Linda nods, knowing what the conversation is about. "What's

going on?"

Linda tells her about the pictures and about the infidelities she

learned about six months ago.

"I was furious, Bernice. I've never been so mad about anything. I

couldn't think of anything bad enough to do to him." She was shaking

mad at the memory of it. "At the time, I was ready to kick him out and

start all over. But that thought just desolated me.

"First I thought about being a housewife with a relatively new

job outside the home. The lack of security and the change in lifestyle

didn't appeal to me at all. Besides, that would have let him off the

hook and punished me for what he did."

"I understand. When I kicked Jason out fifteen years ago, it was

terrible for a while. But that son-of-a-bitch ... well, you know."

Beatrice had been a battered wife for three years before she

finally divorced Jason, Linda knew. He'd finally broken one of her

fingers during a one sided fight and she left, hiding out at a half

way house for battered women for several months. After the divorce,

Jason had wandered off to another city and finally been knifed by an

enraged girlfriend. He was dead but the poor girl had to spend a year

in prison for the knifing. Life isn't fair.

"If Mike was a bastard like that, I would have left just as you

did. But basically, Mike is a nice guy. Loving and attentive. And a

good provider. He's also always pretty much let me do as I please.

"Maybe I was unjustified in what I did. But it just seemed so

appropriate at the time."

"Your idea was to humiliate him as he humiliated you."

"Yes. And it worked very well. When he wasn't working, I made him

do everything I wanted him to. The dirtiest, meanest jobs I could

think of. And I was mean to him, too."

"I saw some in his work," Beatrice says. "He was pretty self

absorbed, I guess you'd say. But he seemed to accommodate pretty

well. I mean, I haven't really seen anything that's a problem in the

last three or four months. You must have let up on him."

"No! Not really. Maybe he just got used to it or something. I

guess you can do that."

"Maybe so," Bernice agrees. "He certainly seems to have

accommodated to this latest."

"You know, the whole thing of making him my slave ... my girl

slave really ... just happened. I didn't really think about it much. I

just looked at him that first night and thought that he would be

humiliated to wear a dress.

"Then I sort of got into it. Dressed him up real tacky. Lots of

makeup and my wig and the highest heels I own. Then I made him go to

the hotel and get me a newspaper." They both laugh.

"I wish I could have done that to Jason," Bernice says. "It would

have served him right."

"That's what I thought. Then I caught up with him there and made

him go with me into the bar for most of the night. We even almost got

picked up by a couple of guys. Mike had to dance with one of them

even. It was funny."

"It sounds like it."

"What I didn't expect was how much it turned me on," she says. "I

was so excited by the time we got home that I couldn't stand it. I

finally ended up raping him."

"I didn't think you could rape the willing," Bernice says.

"Yeah, well. He wasn't all that willing but he got into it pretty

quickly."

"I imagine."

"Then, the next day it just seemed like a good idea to keep it

up. I was still mad at him and it didn't seem like he'd been punished

enough. Hell, he might of even liked it. I wasn't sure.

"But I decided then to make sure. I guess maybe it got a little

out of hand when it went to a month and then two and three and finally

six months. The worst was probably giving him the estrogen."

She shrugs. Bernice is really not very supportive in this but she

doesn't say anything.

"What now?" she asks.

"Oh. Well, this morning I sent him to work in the suit and made

him show it all off. Committed him to it, I guess. But this weekend

and tonight ..."

"You're thinking differently."

"Yeah. I guess I'm rethinking a lot of things. I love him,

Bernice. And now I just want what he wants, whatever that is. I just

hope he's not so mad at me, he can't forgive me."

"He doesn't seem mad," she says.

"No. But I don't know what he's holding inside. Or, really, what

he's thinking. I haven't really let him share much of his thoughts in

the last months."

"No," Bernice says. "Maybe it's time."

"Maybe this weekend."

"No, sweetheart. I think maybe tonight is the time. It's not

something you want to put off."

"You're right, of course. Okay. The topic for tonight." She

sighs.

* * *

Vic and I talk as we walk around the club grounds. It's a

beautiful place and even more so at night with its trees, the green

lighted pool, the quiet tennis courts, and, beyond, the golf course.

I haven't played in almost a year now. I think I should again.

On the opposite side of the club building from the tennis courts

and the dining room, there's a garden of trees and flowers and

flowering shrubs. The moon lights it almost as well as daylight but

softer.

"Isn't this hard on you, buddy," Vic asks quietly. He's been

walking with his arm around my back, our slow footsteps synchronized.

"Hard?"

"I mean, the reign of terror. With Linda?"

"I just worry that she doesn't love me any more, Vic."

"That should be the least of your worries. I mean, she's come up

with some pretty innovative ways to punish you for things I've done a

bunch of times. It's just not fair."

"No. It's all right. She needed to get the anger out. And I

deserved it."

"What if she comes up with something else as crazy. Maybe she's

got plans to turn you into a hooker now." I laugh.

"Maybe that wouldn't be all bad, old buddy," I say.

"Oh, shit," he says resigned. "Do you like this? I mean, being

dressed up like a woman and all." Before I can answer, he answers

himself. "Yeah, you like being a beautiful woman. You said so." I nod

as we walk.

We just look around the garden and walk slowly until we're at the

far extreme of the gardens. The trees surround us.

"How much do you like being a woman, Amy?"

"A lot, Vic."

"How much exactly?"

I can only shake my head. "I don't know what you mean."

He stops then and turns me to him. His hands come to the sides of

my face, holding me looking up at him. My hands have come to the sides

of his waist.

"Do you like it enough to appreciate this?" His mouth comes to

mine, his tongue tracing the shape of my lips. I sigh and realize I've

opened my lips to him. His tongue finds the opening and delves

inside. The feelings the kiss elicits rage throughout my body.

I can't imagine liking him this way even though we've been the

closest of friends for many years. This is different. But I can't help

myself. I do like it!

His hands lower down my body until his fingers find my nipples

and I draw a deep breath around his tongue. I raise my hands to the

back of his neck, pulling his kiss deeper into me and moaning with the

feeling of it. My new breasts are inflamed with feeling.

His hands cup them and knead them almost roughly and it feels

wonderful. Somehow the kiss intensifies and his arms go around me, one

in the small of my back and the other finding my bottom and pushing me

into his hip. I can feel him hard against my stomach.

I can't keep my center still. It rubs against his hip now as

stars twinkle on the inside of my eyelids.

He moves back from my mouth an inch. "I've wanted to do this

since this morning," he moans. As his mouth covers mine again and his

tongue opens mine, I feel him release the snaps of the teddy between

my legs. I stiffen and he feels it. He releases me slightly.

"Make a decision now. How much of a woman are you?" he says. He

looks to his side and I follow his look. There's an old rail fence

there. He looks back at me.

"I'm enough woman for you right now," I mumble. He lets me lead

him to the fence and watches as I lean forward on it, bending at the

waist. I just smile at him.

He walks up beside and behind me then and reaches for the hem of

the lacy dress again. In a motion, he lifts it and the half slip to my

waist. Then he softly touches my naked butt under the garter belt,

rubbing it and looking. It makes me squirm.

It still takes me by surprise when he kneels and I feel his

tongue between my legs now from behind. It strokes the space under my

diminished testicles, across the sensitive spot between my legs, and

back to my little hole. No one has ever done this to me as I feel his

pointed tongue delve into that hole, gently opening it as he did my

lips a moment before. My legs weaken with the feel of it.

I can feel him laving his saliva on me and in me for several

minutes as I wonder if I'm going to come this way. I don't get my

answer as he stands up behind me. I don't know when he took his pants

down, but he did and now he is between my legs, his hips pressed

against my bottom. I tighten my legs around him, holding him as he

pumps into me several times.

He reaches around my middle and his hand covers my hard shaft

completely, rubbing it as his shaft moves back and forth between my

legs. Then he pulls back a little and I feel his finger move into my

ass very gently. I spread my legs to offer access until the finger is

all the way inside.

Then he removes it and stands firmly behind me again. I can feel

him at the portal of my body and then pressing into it slightly. Then

the pressure increases. I realize that I've been clenching it as

tightly as I can in reaction. Mentally, I ease the pressure. I relax

it as if I were relaxing a fist. I think of taking a shit and feel him

move into me a little.

It's hard to keep from clenching tight again against its

intrusion but I overcome it, working hard to relax. It hurts just

before I feel him pass the sphincter muscle and slide further into me.

One arm wraps solidly around my waist, his hand pressing back on my

thigh as he presses forward. It's much further into me now as he eases

and pulls back slightly before surging forward again. I hunch my butt

back to accept him.

Then his hands cover my breasts, crushing them into my chest as I

feel his pubic hair against my buttocks. He releases one breast then

covers the other with his arm and re-establishes his hold with that

hand. The other hand searches for the front hem of the lacy dress and

moves under it to wrap around my rod. He moves back on it as his ass

presses forward into my insides. My head falls back onto his shoulder

and my mouth opens wide for breath.

His strokes in my ass oppose his strokes on my dick as we pump

together and apart, together and apart, faster and faster until I can

only hear his panting in my ear.

"I'm coming," he grunts as I feel it deep inside me and his hand

pinches my nipple roughly. His hand on my dick continues to quicken

in its movements even though he is losing control. My come splatters

onto the path at our feet and I feel my body's complete release.

For several minutes, we stand like this as I feel him softening

and retreating from me. I'm holding most of his weight on my back and

hips for that time. Then he slowly moves back and I feel him leave my

body. He stoops and retrieves his pants as I re-snap the teddy and

rearrange the half slip and skirt.

"I've got to get back to the club," I say. "Gotta take a shit."

He laughs uproariously. Then he steps in front of me and gently

strokes the side of my face. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and

kisses me again deeply. It's a very sexy, knowing kiss.

"You make a hell of a woman," he says. "And you've got the best

tits in the business."

He takes my hand and we begin the walk back, this time a little

more hurried since I'm having a little trouble with control.

"You've got the tightest cunt I've had in twenty years, too."

"Now shush!" I say. "God, what would happen if anyone knew?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Shall we go ask?"

"No. Jesus. This is what got me in trouble in the first place."

"Okay. I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal," I say. "And a better deal than you made me this

morning. After all, what would the other guys think if I told them

you'd been buggering your best old buddy?"

"They'd say, 'How does he rate?'" he says with a silly grin. I

don't think so.

I rush through the lobby of the club and into the restroom. I

just make it before I can't hold it anymore. Before I leave, I use the

bidet, that is very interesting and a lot like a fountain, and check

out the sitting area with its soft chaise lounges and the two ladies'

sized recliners. The women's magazines are all old.

Chapter 6

Linda ASKS ME to drive home and sits turned on the seat beside me,

watching me as I drive.

"What are you feeling, Amy?" she asks.

"Feeling? Oh, a little drunk. Happy, I guess. I don't know. It

was a wonderful dinner. Thank you."

She waves it off. "Nothing."

We ride in silence for a little longer before she speaks again.

"I could take the afternoon off tomorrow and go shopping with

you," she says.

"If you want to," I say. "But I arranged with Phillis to show me

some places. She goes to them all the time."

"Yeah, I'm sure she does. She always dresses that way, doesn't

she?"

"Uh huh," I nod. "A little trendier than I want to look for this

interview, I think, but the places should have the right kind of

clothes."

"Try a place called the Beastie Boutique," she says. "I've gotten

a few things there. Some for you, actually. Remember the clear rubber

dress I made you wear that one weekend?"

"Oh. Yeah." It's not a particularly pleasant memory. I worked my

ass off that weekend and sweated gallons inside the tight rubber. I

practically had to peel the thing off by the end of the day.

"They have a lot of nicer things there. Very feminine and sexy as

well as the leather and studs ... and rubber. That thing was awful,

wasn't it," she laughs. I can't stay mad at her.

"Yeah. It was awful. I sweat like a racehorse on a hard run for

the whole day."

"But you lost your gut that day, too. Remember?" I do and

nod. Weighing, I'd lost five pounds and it was all from my waist and

stomach. It was kind of sexy working in the thing even as

uncomfortable as it was. It was still sexier when Linda helped me get

it off and washed me before shaving my whole body again and making

love to me afterwards.

"I liked the part afterwards the best," I say with a grin.

"I know you did," she's quiet for a minute. "I liked that part

best, too."

That's the first time she's sounded this softly loving to me in

months. My mind keeps working now.

"Linda, I don't understand something." She waits.

"You got so mad at me six months ago because of something I did

back in college," I say, hoping I'm not starting the whole thing

over. "And, of course, more recently. I admit all that."

"Yes," she says hesitantly.

"But what I did with your friends Friday night was almost the

same thing. I ... I guess I just don't understand."

"I don't know how to explain it," she begins. "It was ... well

... it was sort of a peace offering, I guess. My silly way of saying I

understand what made you do those things before.

"You know, one of the benefits for you of this whole thing is

that it's made me a much more sensual person. I've sort of lived some

things vicariously through you during these months. Learned maybe a

little better what being a woman really means.

"And I've gotten a lot more confident of myself. I'm not nearly

so fragile. Punishing you, I found out a lot about myself and how

strong I am. I don't feel that I have to have you to be complete

anymore. But ..." she takes a deep breath before continuing. "But I

find that I do want you."

We pull into the driveway and go into the house.

"Would you like a drink or anything," I ask.

"No," she says. "I want to go to bed. With you."

"You mean ..." I hesitate to say it.

"Yes. I mean. I want to take that sexy lace dress off of you. And

while I do it, I want you to take my dress off, too. And then I want

you to make love to me."

She just looked at me from under the blond bangs that were

hanging over her forehead when her head was in that sexy, downcast

position.

"I want you to teach me everything you've learned about a woman's

body and what you've found feels good. And then I'll do the same for

you."

"Gosh, I don't know," I say as I grin and move toward the

stairs. "You've been leading this sort of thing for so long, I may

have forgotten."

"You sure as hell better not have," she says with an answering

grin. "Or we'll have to start new lessons."

In the next fifteen minutes, she carefully took the lace dress

off me before working on the half slip and teddy. Then I took off her

short blue dress and deposited it, with the lace dress, on the makeup

table chair. She glistened with readiness below her garter belt. And

that's when I learned that she hadn't worn panties at all tonight. We

fell onto the bed together, pushing the covers out of our way and

leaving the stockings and heels on. They turn both of us on.

"I have an admission to make, Amy," she says then. "I've already

had two orgasms tonight." I thought about myself. Six months ago, I

couldn't have gotten it up again after the night I'd spent. I listen.

"Beatrice licked me until I came when we went to the powder room

together," she looks down, embarrassed. "And while you were gone to

the bathroom, Vic put his hand between my legs and made me come."

She looks at me as if she thinks I'm going to be mad.

"Can you forgive me?" she asks. Finally I can't hold it in

anymore and laugh out loud.

"It seems they had a very big night with us," I say.

"What?"

"Beatrice also did me when we went to the bathroom. And later,

when Vic and I went for the walk, he made love to me."

"Really? You're kidding?" I only shook my head. "Somehow it seems

a little strange to have competition for lovers with my husband."

I take her in my arms gently.

"You made it possible, my love," I whisper.

"Yes," she whispers. "Are you very mad at me for doing that to

you?"

"Yes," I say too quickly and feel her stiffen. "Yes and no. Yes

to all the things I hated about this last six months. Like not knowing

if you hated me. And no for the result."

"The result? You mean being a woman?" I nod into her shoulder as

we lay side by side holding each other, our stocking covered legs

intertwined. "You like being a woman?" she asks again.

"Yes," I say, looking her directly in the eyes. "I like it very

much. I guess it's like Vic says. I can like it because I am a

beautiful woman. He'd make an ugly one."

She gets a strange look in her eyes. "He'd make a tall woman but

..."

"No more experimenting," I say as I pinch her nipple lightly and

she cringes.

"We could do it together. I'll bet he'd make a pretty woman. Not

like you. Not gorgeous. But pretty." I laugh then and she returns my

action, pinching my nipple and regaining my attention. She pinched me

harder and I cringe considerably.

"Oh, did I hurt it. I'm sorry," she says as she moves down a

little and kisses it softly. I cringe again as her tongue crosses it

again and again. Then she pulls me to her more roughly and sucks up as

much of my breast as will fit into her mouth. I didn't know if it was

possible but my whole body is now vibrating with the movements of her

tongue. "You like the feelings of being a woman, don't you."

"Yes, my love," I gasp. "Yes."

"And you want me to make love to you as I would a woman. Right?"

"Yes, my love," I gasp again.

Her body lowers again, kissing down across my stomach. Lower. She

turns me onto my back and rolls over my leg until she's between

them. She pushes them apart further and lifts them into the air. I

look down to see her between the nylon clad legs, the pretty white

heels on my feet. She pushes them up until my knees touch my chest.

Then her tongue finds that sensitive spot between my legs and

moves on it, caresses it over and over again until I'm breathing very

hard. Her tongue presses into the opening of my ass as no one had done

before tonight. In and out until my body is rocking with the tinier

movements of her tongue. Then she moves up until she finds just the

head of my dick and licks it as she would a clit. I feel what I think

she would feel. She does it for a very long time until I am on the

edge of an orgasm.

Then she moves up my body again, licking her way up to my nipples

and then sucks first one and then the other. She puts my dick inside

her. I know that has to be the way it is. But it feels as if she's put

one in me instead.

She keeps my legs spread as she fucks me. She buries her tongue

in my mouth, moving her tongue in and out of me as she pumps into

me. My legs are spread wide and in the air. My hands move up and down

her back again and again as she pumps me. My knees are almost under

her armpits and, as my orgasm starts, wrap around her middle.

I buck and surge with it. God, she fucks me so well, so

beautifully. Then her own orgasm joins mine and I hold her with both

arms and both legs as her body loses coordination. As it goes

wild. She's chewing on my lip now and my climax just continues up and

up until I think I might lose consciousness.

Then I can feel her body relaxing and feel my own following,

joining it in its descent to the normal world. I put my legs down to

the sides of hers and we lay locked together, regaining ourselves.

"You like being a woman?" she states.

"I like it a lot more sometimes than others. Now is one of the

times I like it best."

She rolls off me to the side and I turn with her, holding her

tightly.

"What now?" she mumbles into my shoulder.

"What?" I ask.

"What now Mike? What happens now?"

"Amy, my love," I remind her. "But I don't know."

We lay together for a long time looking at the patterns of light

and darkness in the room. Then I ask the question that's plagued me

since Friday.

"Linda, is it over?"

"What?"

"Is the punishment over now?" I have to know.

"Yes," she says plainly. "It's over. You go back to making your

own decisions now. No more housework to keep you busy. No more strange

clothes to humiliate you. No more Tampax. No more pills. In a few

months, I understand, you will be back to your old self."

"No," I say. "That's not what I want at all."

"It's not?"

"No. I don't mind the housework. At least the housework that

really needs to be done. Particularly if you help me. And I don't

mind cooking part of the time if you'll take the other part."

I take a deep breath. This is the really hard one.

"And I don't want to go back to being Mike Brewster. I'm not him

now and I can't go back."

"So where do we go from here?" she asks. It's a good question.

"Vic asked me that tonight. He said I can't have it both ways. I

can't go to the belly bar in a tee-shirt anymore. But what he meant

was that I've got to make a decision all the way. Man or woman. All

the way."

She sighs against my neck.

"When I was really pissed off at you, I talked to a doctor to ask

what would happen if I cut off your dick," she says. I cringe at the

thought. She was truly pissed at me. "He said you'd probably bleed to

death along with being pretty mad yourself if you made it through

it. I decided I wasn't that mad at you after all."

"I'm glad," I say with conviction.

She laughs. Not really very funny. That's scary.

"What he did say is that you can have an operation. They claim it

is really pretty easy even if it sounds pretty complicated to me. I

guess they've been doing it since the '50's. They actually use the

skin of your penis and testicles to make a pussy. A vagina. They can't

make fallopian tubes or any of the rest, of course. Not even a cervix

or womb. But the vagina is normal."

She breathes against my neck.

"They also form a real clitoris that the doctor said was

successfully functional in about 90 percent of the cases they've

done. He said that meant that it was correctly sensitive and could

produce an orgasm. It still sounds almost impossible to me because

they remove your testicles and a bunch of the stuff inside your

dick. Then they use it with a cut between your legs to make the

pussy. Oh, and they reroute your urethra for a normal female way of

going to the bathroom."

"That sounds pretty radical. Besides, then how could we make

love?"

"I just made love to you as a woman. I could do that again. I'd

even get a big black dildo and fuck you with that. And you could fuck

me with it, too."

"That wouldn't be the same."

"No, it wouldn't." Then she giggles. "It'd be a bunch bigger."

She giggles again. "And it could have a vibrator in it."

"Shit," I say tongue in cheek. "If I'd've known you wanted it to

vibrate, I'd've done that a long time ago."

"There's another way, too," she said into my neck again. "We

could get boyfriends. And they could fuck us both. Or just invite Vic

over. He'd do us both, I guess."

We laugh and hug. Then she pulls me on top of her and, somehow, I

find that it's still hard. Hard enough anyway. I make love to her as

a man, pumping hard into her to make her cry out with the pleasure of

it. And I call her a cunt and a bitch and she writhes in my arms and

comes and comes and comes.

We fall asleep still wrapped in each others' arms, our naked

breasts pressed into each other.

Chapter 7

WHEN I GOT out of the shower, still trying to get the sleep out of my

eyes and my head together from the late night, I saw the outfit Linda

had laid out for me.

Again there was the garter belt, stockings and french cut panties

but then it differs slightly from what I've come to expect. The skirt

is a simple black sheath that clings to my skin. It fastens with a

simple side zipper and button at the left side of the waist. The top

is a shirt-cut opaque black blouse with material that matches the

skirt and buttons up the front. Experimenting, I see it looks best

with the collar up and about three of the top buttons unbuttoned to

show a little cleavage.

I blow dry and brush out my hair before putting on a little

lipstick and mascara. The shoes I slip on before heading downstairs to

breakfast are simple black pumps.

"Yes, that looks nice," she says as I step into the kitchen. "I

thought maybe you needed something today that would be easy to slip in

and out of for your shopping trip." I hadn't thought of it and nod. It

will be.

I watch her fuss about getting some eggs on the table and

watching the skirt of her little dress flounce with her. She looks

more feminine than I've seen her in months. This is a good omen, I

think.

I check in with the office, answer a couple of calls, make sure

of the afternoon appointment with Phillis for shopping, and head out

to Barnes' building. Philip Peabody meets me at the guard station in

the lobby. It seems no one goes in without a guide or a company

nametag.

"Where would you like to start?" he asks as he looks at the

opening in my shirt.

"Up to you but maybe with the working areas before the corporate

ones, okay?"

"Right. Then we're on the right floor." He leads me through a

couple of glass doors into and past a concealing wall. This floor, he

explains, and the one below contain the presses. I hadn't realized the

extent of the bookmaking process and for the next hour, he shows me

all the ins and outs though it is totally out of my area of expertise.

What it does instead is gain the very pointed attention of about

500 press operators and as many compositors and typesetters. The only

area that I may be able to help at all is in the computerized

composition machines and, particularly, the colorizing computers where

the designs for covers are done.

I notice that one of the covers being produced is of a beautiful

woman, almost completely undressed and looking seductive. I can't see

the title well but I think it's something about naked thighs. Her

naked thighs or Father's naked thighs or something like that.

No one sees me look at the cover. I want to keep it that way.

He walks me up to the next floor, very carefully walking behind

me up the stairway. I can feel his eyes on my ass and on my legs

behind. I try not to let it get to me.

He catches up and pushes the fire door open into another large

room full of cubicles. People sit in each of the cubicles with single

headsets with mouthpieces and computers. It looks like one of these

boiler rooms where orders are taken for TV offers or something. Maybe

it's for book orders but it seems like an awful lot of them for

that. That's what he tells me it is anyway.

His statement is lessened somewhat when we walk by one cubicle

and the rather heavyset girl says something about loving her clit

licked like that. Since he hurries me through that part of the big

room fairly quickly, I'm not sure that's what I heard.

He follows me up another flight of fire stairs then and through

another large room divided into cubicles. He says this is "editorial"

and explains that this is where the manuscripts are read and

edited. The outside walls of this floor are divided into individual

offices that he says are the more senior editors who work with the top

authors and their agents.

He takes me to the elevator then and pushes "10" as he explains

that these floors are all editorial, two for fiction, one for poetry

and culture books, one for photography heavy books, one for textbooks,

and some others that I don't catch.

The tenth floor is the legal department where, he says, the

contracts are written and signed with writers and others. He stops at

one of the offices and picks up a blue bound contract. "Yours," he

explains without showing it to me or giving it to me either.

The next floor is computers again with a lot of ledger sheet

output on every desk. "Finance," I guess before he tells me. They do

the billings and the payments along with corporate accounting.

The next floor is a "clean room" with sterile looking white walls

and people in what look like lab coats. The entire center of this

floor is made up of a raised and glass enclosed computer with

technicians moving about between them, changing 9-track tapes and

watching green monitors.

"It's not a Cray, is it?" I ask, seeing the arc shaped black

machines.

"No, no. Just a top of the line IBM." The distinction seems to be

fairly small since I can feel the cold coming off the glass walls that

indicates cryogenic protection for the machines. The clean room is an

indication of a very fast, very competent machine.

"This is the mainframe for all those terminals you saw

below. Lots of PC's down there, too. But the important machines are

terminals connected to this baby. Very fast. It also handles the big

databases. The on-line services," he says as if I might be too stupid

to understand. "There's some more storage somewhere in the building

but I'm not sure where. Upstairs, I think." I wonder why he doesn't

know.

He follows me up the next stairway as well and opens the door

into the plushest floor I've seen so far with deep pile carpets and

big oak and maple desks even for the "administrative assistants." At

this level, they aren't secretaries any more, I know. The prettiest

women I've seen yet are set up here with their computers, telephones,

and spotlessly clean desks. None of them are tacky enough to file

their nails but they look as if they have little else to do. Two that

I see of about ten are actually typing something on their PC's. Each

is connected to a laser printer. Instant memos.

I think Phillip is happy to be able to show me off. He takes me

into the offices of half a dozen corporate officers even though they

don't seem to have anything to do with my job with them. Each makes a

pretense of being very busy, a couple on the telephone, several

requiring us to wait "just a few minutes" then asking us in almost

immediately after through the secretaries, of course.

Each of the men are pleasant and gracious even though they don't

have much of anything to say to me after, "Oh, you're Miss

Brewster. Very nice to meet you." If they really knew anything about

me, they'd more likely be expecting "Mike" Brewster and not Amy. Or

they'd be asking about Vic, who had the account until yesterday.

Finally, he introduces me to the MIS, the boss for the computers,

and I finally see a working office. He has a PC and a terminal in this

office and, while I watch, switches between the two.

"I do all the small programming tasks on the PC and then transfer

it. That way I don't slow down the time share." The machine has to be

very busy to have one terminal make any difference at all, I

think. Oh, well. "I also sample the on-line databases pretty often to

watch their status and see what kind of activity there is. We get a

printout, of course, but it's nice to know from first hand. You kind

of get a gut feeling."

"You're trying some new offerings?"

"Yes. Yes we are as a matter of fact. Several things. We'll be

very interested in their success. Or failure of course." I can see

that he's not going to share much with me.

Phillip takes me next to his own office, bypassing Veronica, his

secretary, with a brief hello. I smile and follow him into the

office. He seats me in front of his desk and asks her to get coffee

before shutting the door.

"Phil?" I ask friendly. "What's on the floors above?"

"Oh, well, nothing you'd be interested in. There's some more

computer storage, as I said before, and a few other offices. Then

Mr. Barnes' penthouse."

"I understood there was a photo studio and some other studios," I

say.

He looks at me strangely for a moment before answering. A lot

like he's measuring the extent of my knowledge. Then he

lies. Badly. "Oh, no. Well, just one for cover shots and that sort of

thing. Minor." It makes him nervous. "Nothing for you to worry your

little head about anyway. Nothing in this contract that would touch

them." Them. More than one for cover shots. Bad liar. No wonder he's

not in the legal department, I think.

I'd noticed that his door just had his name on it and is quite

small. So my guess is he's just a corporate gofer.

"Here's your contract, if you'd like to look it over." He sets a

pen on top of the paper.

"Yes, thank you. But if you don't mind, I'll take it to our

lawyers. Oh, and we may have some additions that will have to be

inserted." I scan it but know that it's so much trash. Events have

already gone past Phil. I stand then and he pulls his eyes off my legs

for only the second time since we walked in the door and I sat down in

the short, tight skirt. I extend my hand. "Thank you for the tour. I'm

sure it will come in very handy to have some idea of what I'm talking

about concerning the physical facilities."

"Talking about? With whom, could I ask." He seems a little

concerned. I hate people who use the word "whom" in any context. Even

if it is correct in some cases. It's still prissy and unnecessary.

"Oh, I have an appointment with Mr. Barnes tonight," I say.

Now he gets obsequious. I think he might bow or something. "You

have been treated well here, haven't you? I mean, there's no problem?"

"No, no. As I said. We're looking toward an addition to this

contract. Some other things we'll be able to help with, I'm sure."

He's fidgeting. I've never seen this in a man though I had an old maid

aunt who did it all the time when anything was said she didn't like

from someone being ill to a cuss word from her darling nephew. "Please

don't worry," I felt I had to say before he collapsed. "You've been

perfectly ... helpful." I had a hard time coming up with a word to

describe his work. "You've done just fine. This is just out of your

purview. That's all."

"And you'll give Mr. Barnes a good report?" He seems so worried

that I can't help but smile.

"Of course, Phil. No problem." He seems to visibly relax. Poor

guy. This Barnes must be a piece of work. Good to know. I started for

the door then with my smile still intact. He seems to leap from his

chair and walks me to the elevator. Though I'd just as soon he didn't,

he rides down with me and escorts me to the spot next to the guard's

station he picked me up at. He almost bows me out of the building.

* * *

An hour ago, I had returned to the office and picked up Phillis

and one of the company's gold cards. We'd walked together to The Pub,

a yuppie lunch bar a few blocks from the office. We quickly ate some

goopy sandwiches full of bamboo shoots, that I hate, and two glasses

of white wine each. It took the edge off.

"So, where do you want to start?" Phillis asks as we walk down

the street after our lunch.

"This is your area. You tell me. I'm just along for the ride,

sort of."

"Okay," she says, thinking. "We could start at the Barn and the

Lounge and then head down to the Footerie. Maybe even Frederick's,

huh?"

"Lead on," I shrug. I've never heard of any of these

places. Except Frederick's, that is.

Today she is wearing a pair of tight leggings with wild color

strips running around her legs below the world's shortest bright blue

skirt and a tee-shirt sweater with the wild strips repeated. Topped

off with spike heels that match the skirt. The whole thing clings so

tightly to her body that she couldn't have a pimple without it being

clearly visible. She already told me she usually dresses conservative

for the office, most of her things are a lot wilder than this, and

that she'd chosen something, this, as sort of a middle ground so she

wouldn't get kicked out of the office but wouldn't get kicked out of

the stores either. I could only nod with amazement.

We turn into a store commanded by a girl with pink hair (on one

side at least), and black lipstick and nail polish. Certainly, the

outfits we look at for a few minutes fit in with the clerk's outfit

and Phillis's but I can't see anything I could wear without looking

like a clown. I want sexy; not silly. Maybe even startling. But not

just outrageous. I try to get this message over to her.

She smiles and says she knows just the place. I try to keep up

with her while she strides along, amazingly fast, on those tentative

shoes. That's another thing I'm not getting, I vow.

She turns me into another store. The store clerk is obviously one

of Phillis's girlfriends and they break into a conversation and leave

me alone to look around. Many of the things here are also repulsively

outrageous but there are some very nice things too. But it seems that

everything has a catch to it. A long skirt is slit from the hem to the

waist. Completely. With only a small waist piece to hold it on. A

decent looking skirt, held up, is so sheer I can see my hand through

both sides. I see a pink, blue, and black version of the white lace

dress I wore last night. This must be where Linda shopped for that.

I look at a ruffled, tier skirt that's not ridiculously short and

the salesgirl points out that it's designed to ride "really really

low" on your hips. "Cool," she says. I don't think so. I don't think

my hips are full enough for that. Finally, she's making suggestions

for me though. That's good, I think. Phillis is helping, too, with a

better idea of what I really need. Not disco, but sexy.

They suggest a black dress that I kind of like that has some

similarities to the tiered one. I decide I'll try that on along with

some others if they can help pick some.

We agree on one black dress with a side slit. I've got to see

what it feels like to wear. A red dress has a really low cut top that

I think I can hold up. I'll try that. Another red dress seems to be a

complex set of strings with tiny pieces of material. The salesgirl

volunteers to help me into it but I veto that as too revealing.

One red dress has a series of holes up both sides. I veto that,

too. I pick out a blue dress that is a very lightweight crepe or silk

or something so light it's hard to hold down and, I'm sure, would when

you were out for an evening. Maybe for tonight though. I'll try it.

"You'll need these," she says, handing me a pair of black "hip

hugger" panty hose. "Unless you'd rather have crotchless," she asks

with questioning eyes. I don't think I'd handle those very well and

shake my head, taking the hip huggers. "Or maybe a contrasting color?"

she asks again, handing me a pair in a sort of dayglo pink. I shake my

head again. "Lace?" Again. "How about super sheer?" Maybe. But I can

try things on with the black stockings.

As I pass into the dressing room, she says, "All those things,

you'll want to get rid of your panties if you're wearing them." I

nod. "Oh, and you can wear most of them without stockings if you

want." No stockings, no panties, humm. I don't think that would work

either. Besides stockings make a girl's legs look so much more

appealing.

"If you need help, just yell."

I start by undoing the garter belt and taking off my stockings

and panties. Then I put on the pantyhose. When I take off my skirt, I

see that the pantyhose form to me perfectly without covering much of

anything. They top across my tummy, low on my hips only barely at the

top of my pubic hair but firmly between my legs. They give the right

degree of support with it tucked between and just laid along my hip

bone. They're perfect.

I unbutton the blouse and take it off before looking at the

tiered dress that I really like.

Taking it off the hanger I see that it's really three separate

pieces. First the frilly bra, then matching panties, the frill of

which is only between my legs and very slightly up front and back with

string ties. The single strip of the bra goes around and fastens

without shoulder straps and the cups are separated slightly with a

narrow gauzy strip of the same material as the rest of the strap.

As I pull the dress over my head I see that it really isn't what

I thought it was. What I thought were shoulder straps are really sort

of arm straps fastened to a front piece that covers a part of my

stomach in a sort of hourglass shape. It doesn't touch my back in the

least. The waist is very low, lying about an inch above the top of the

pantyhose. The tiers of fluffy material, the same as the bra and

panties, is about 10 inches from waist to hem. The idea of this dress,

I see now, is to show all the skin but what the bra covers above the

waist, all the possible leg, and actually center and show off both the

bra and panties, the bra when you're standing, the panties when you're

sitting.

I've got to think about this one a little. I hang it back up.

The crepe outfit is a very light top with a low cut circle from

the point of one shoulder to the other and down almost to my

nipples. Only multiple layers of the material covers them. The bottom

of the top is tight about the waist and flaring a little at the

hips. The skirt is the same flaring, multiple layers that falls to mid

thigh. Going dancing would be virtually impossible, I see as I swing

my hips a little, but most anything else would be okay. I like it.

The red dress's low cut top is almost scandalous and loose enough

that leaning forward would be impossible. It opens about a foot. The

lightly elasticized waist clings low on my hips with a slit to it on

each side. Interesting. I like it more on than I thought I might. They

all have possibilities. I don't like the black stockings with it,

though. Sheer or maybe a red cast.

They're still talking after I get dressed in my own clothes again

and return to the showroom. "Oh," the salesgirl says. "I should have

been more attentive. I'm sure there's something here you'd like. Let's

look a little more."

"No, no," I say. "I like all three of these and I'll take them."

She's surprised but pleased.

"Something else? Some bras or panties or, I know, you need some

pantyhose for those." She lays out a selection and I pick a very

sheer red pair, the black ones, and the completely sheer ones. Then I

pick up a pair of white ones that I think would go with the dress I

wore last night, too. "How about a blouse?" she says, seeing a sucker

when she sees one and lifts a white one from the rack and lays it

across her arm. I can see the time on her watch through it. But with a

really pretty bra ... I take it.

"Skirts? We've got the shortest skirts being sold." I look

through them and find a flared black skirt and a white one that's the

same.

"Okay. Enough," I say finally.

But as she lists out the items, she shows me some really pretty

bra and panty sets and I pick out two that she adds to the list. Just

right for under that blouse. I draw the line at the tight, lightweight

sweaters. Then I pick out two wide leather belts that I have to hold

my breath to put around my waist. They give me an hourglass shape and

draw attention to it with the black and white tiger strip of one and

the bright white of the other with the big gold buckle.

I hand her the card before she can show me anything else.

Phillis is tickled by my lack of control as we walk down the

street with the armloads of bags. It's just a hell of a lot more fun

to shop for these things than it is for Levis, tee-shirts, or sports

shirts.

She guides me into another store a few doors down, filled with

shoes.

A nice looking blond man in his twenties waits on us and quickly

seats me at one of the chairs. He takes off my shoe, measures it, and

somehow tickles the bottom so I cringe back.

"Very high?" he asks.

"No, please. I don't think I could walk on them." He nods, goes

to the back room through a curtain, and comes back in a few minutes

with his arms full of boxes. He opens several, setting them in their

tops on the chairs around us, handing a couple of boxes to Phillis as

she sits next to me.

I pull out a little of the three dresses. "I want to wear them

with these."

"Ah," he says. "Three pairs? Or just one to work with them all?"

I shrug. Phillis laughs and I hit her lightly.

One pair is Lucite with a woodblock heel. Ugly. Several are too

high though not as high as Phillis's. One black pair is an "X" of

quarter inch straps over the toes and a circle around the ankle that's

connected to the center of the heel. They're pretty high and have a

point that would kill anyone who got stepped on, but they look great

on. I set them aside.

A red pair is shiny patent leather at the toe with a very sharp

point and equally sharp heels. A strap goes from the side of the toe

part and around the heel with a little buckle at the back. I like

them, too.

Several white pairs are very ugly. One's even got a lace from the

toes that wraps around the instep however many times you want, then

around the heel and around your ankle all the way up your calf if you

want. I figure that would last about five minutes before it would fall

down in a pile of tangles around your ankles for the night. No.

The next white pair is more restrained with the same idea. The

toe part is fastened to the shoe and the heel, then crosses in front

of my ankle and ties at the back. I like that.

I don't like any of the blue ones and they're all strange colors

that don't come close to the dress. I pick out black and white pairs

like the red ones.

One pair is a little too high but I think they're sexy with a

buckle that covers the white leather over the toes, leaving two toes

visible, a middle part and heel that narrows so it is almost invisible

under your foot, and then has a strap around the ankle with a second

buckle covering it. It sort of looks like you're going barefoot with

just those buckles.

Pairs of black and white plain pumps, but higher than those I've

had before, can be used for work.

The salesman is almost as happy with the sale as he has been

looking under my skirt and rubbing my feet and legs from toes to knee.

I'm surprised that they all seem quite comfortable in spite of

being higher than I'm used to. He rings up the bill.

"Now Frederick's?" Phillis asks as we hit the street, even more

laden with packages now.

"No way," I say. "Bernice is already going to be pissed. Let's

drop by my car and unload before we go back to the office."

When we get back, it is only a few minutes to quitting time. I

drop in on Bernice and give her the card slips and, when she looks at

them, she says, "Very reasonable. I spend about 10 times that every

time I go shopping. I just can't hold myself back."

"Maybe I was paying by the yard of goods," I say with a grin. She

cringes a little.

"This short?"

"Short and low," I say.

"Well, hope he likes them?" I nod in the same hope. We'll soon

see. I just have enough time to get dinner, if Linda has made

something, and get dressed.

Chapter 8

I CAN SMELL the dinner when I walk through the door and yell

notification of my arrival.

Like a barefoot and pregnant wife, Linda comes out of the kitchen

in a simple cotton dress she'd changed into after work. As she wraps

her arms around my neck, I know that she is wearing nothing under the

thin layer of cotton. She ignores the several bags of clothing I

carry, to give me a smiling welcome home kiss. A very deep kiss. I

love it.

"Hey, Linda," I say. "Help me pick out something to wear

tonight?"

"Did you get a lot of good things?" she asks.

"Yeah, you'll like them. Promise." I look at her with

anticipation. "Help me pick out something."

As I go upstairs to the bedroom, she turns down the heat on the

dinner and then follows me.

I just got the things out of the bags when she comes into the

room.

"Oh, honey! How pretty!" she says. "Try them on for me!"

"That's why I wanted you to look. I mean in particular," I

say. "You've got to help me pick for tonight."

"Yes. Start with the red one."

I strip quickly and then put on the red stockings before pulling

the red dress over my head. She likes it even better with the bright

red shoes.

"Hot?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Fantastic! I should have been having you pick out clothes," she

said with a broad smile.

"Black or blue?" I ask, pointing at them on the side of the bed.

"Ah, blue," she says.

I hesitate then pick the black stockings and put them on before

stripping out of the lightweight red material and pulling on the blue

dress.

"Now the black. Yeah, the black," she says excitedly. I can't

believe that it affects her this much. She really seems to be getting

excited.

Again, I put on the stockings, the sheer ones now, before taking

the dress off. Then I step into the panties and wrap the bra around

myself. She giggles at the dress and the way it holds my breasts up

and works so hard at not covering my body at all.

She applauds the way the top only displays my breasts and laughs

aloud when I sit down and show how the frilly panties only point out

the point between my legs.

"That's the one!" she screams. "You've got to wear that. It's not

tacky but it's certainly sexy as hell. That's definitely the one. And

those shoes are great. It's looks like you're barefoot but much

sexier."

"Dinner then?" I ask.

"Sure, but let's do your hair first. And your eyes."

For the next several minutes, she tries different ways of

brushing out my hair. Flat and smoothed back. Held back with

barrettes. Combs on one side holding it up and over. Combed down

across one eye. I veto that because I couldn't see where I was going

and I was already having trouble with the shoes without that. Finally,

she settles on a very free, fluffed version of how I'd been wearing it

since the permanent.

Again, she applies the relatively heavy eye shadow and mascara

and then a slightly darker lipstick than I had been wearing during the

daytime with my cheekbones outlined relatively lightly with blush. She

surprises me with several touches of perfume on my breasts and

between, ears, behind the knees, and above the panties on my

tummy. She even put a little of the blush on my breasts, making the

cleavage more prominent and noticeable than it was before. And that

was considerable.

She supplies me with a purse full of brush, lipstick, and mascara

before she leads me downstairs and serves me dinner. I slip my car

keys into the purse before I sit down and eat.

She feels my bottom under the very short skirt as she shoos me

out the door for my trip across town.

* * *

"Miss Brewster," the guard says matter-of-factly when I stand

next to his station in the lobby. I nod. I'm sure this isn't the same

guard that was here this morning. "Please press the button for the top

floor in the elevator, then follow the stairs up to Mr. Barnes." He's

smiling as if he knows something I don't and is thoroughly enjoying

his secret knowledge.

As I wag my ass across the rest of the lobby to the elevators, I

physically feel his centered gaze on my ass. When I turn and look

back, his eyes come up to my eyes for a second before dropping back to

my legs. He's leaning way forward on the high guard station desk. It's

unnerving to be watched this closely.

I'm relieved when the door of the elevator closes as I push the

button and it begins to rise. I watch the numbers go up the scale

above the door. I get ready to get off when the numbers hit 35, the

button I pushed and the top on the control panel. It doesn't slow for

a moment after the 35 fades out. It must be enabled for a floor above

the 35th by the owner.

I step out of the elevator when the doors finally open into a

rather small room. It's only feature is a straight, rather

unremarkable staircase to the right. I start up the staircase and onto

a floor that is much more sumptuous. This is more like what I

expected.

The thick, wine-colored carpet catches at my heels as I walk

across it to the large doors. To one side of the door is a floor to

ceiling mirror perhaps twenty feet tall. To the other side is a window

that looks out across the city. I look quickly into the mirror and see

that everything is still in place before standing in front of the

window and looking at the view.

The door buzzes and opens quietly. I push it open far enough to

get in and push it shut behind me. It buzzes again as it closes before

I hear a deadbolt slide very firmly and obviously into place inside

it.

This entry room is much more impressive with obvious antiques on

each side of the broad hallway and bronzed mirrors above their

surfaces. The mirrors seem to point down on me though they seem to be

hanging straight. I can still see my feet in them. I wait for a

moment, thinking someone will come and take me further into the

apartment.

Finally, I shrug and walk forward to another high double door. A

very large room lies on the other side of the door with a huge curved

couch set into the floor. But this is overcome by a panoramic view of

the city through 15 foot windows that surround the room on three

sides. The darkness outside only highlights the thousands of lights

below and the colored undersides of the few clouds above. The light in

the room is very subdued with more than half being provided by the

reflected light from outside and the moon's beams.

"Amy Brewster," a voice says from somewhere in front of me. "Come

in. Join us if you wish. Just excuse me for a few moments."

I walk to the back of the sunken couch, looking for a stairway

down into the pit. When I look down, however, all I can see is the

most beautiful blond woman I've ever seen, with her legs spread

impossibly and a dark head buried between them. She's in ecstasy as

the dark head moves between her legs. The hair on the dark head is

also very long and concealing only the head of a completely naked

woman. Her ass is pointed up from her position on her knees.

"Some people watch movies of an evening," the male voice says. "I

generally don't have to. Please sit down."

I see some steps then, along with the man sitting in the chair

not too far from the two women on the floor. I walk down the steps

into the pit and sit on the couch, being careful with what there is of

the skirt to this dress. I can't keep my eyes off the two women as the

blond has a noisy, movement filled orgasm, squirming to escape the

other woman's head.

"I don't get many reruns or instant replays this way, but it

somehow seems so much more lifelike. Besides, Valerie and Karen so

enjoy their sales pitch. Just watch."

I do for several minutes as the two women go at it and the blond

has at least one more orgasm that bows her back until she is standing

on her head with her chest thrust out.

"Which do you think?" his voice says. "Oh, you can't tell, can

you. Okay, switch now."

I watch as the dark haired girl lays down on her back and the

blond drops between her legs to stroke her tongue there. She holds her

long hair aside so I can see what she is doing.

When she takes a breath, I can see the dark haired girl's

enlarged clitoris. A very large one, in fact. In only a few minutes

the dark haired girl passes from very heavy breathing to an orgasm

that sees her clasping her legs around the blond's head tightly, her

foot actually pressing at the back of the girl's neck.

"Creditable," the male voice says. "They can actually almost

perform on command. A very useful talent for a star in our type of

films. So what do you think?"

I find that my mouth is a bit dry when I try to speak and almost

croak out some words. "They're ... very pretty," I say.

"Yes. Pretty. Indeed. Actually, they're both absolutely stunning

women. But you're not helping with my problem."

"Maybe I could if I knew the problem," I say.

"Perhaps. Perhaps," he says. "I've got one position and two

interviewees. One wins and one loses."

The blond's eyes meet mine even though her head is still buried

between the dark haired girl's legs.

"What are you interviewing for? A secretary or a porn star?"

"Actually sort of a mixture. She would play a secretary who gets

laid by the star before the movie even really gets started."

"If it's a lawyer's office, then neither of them are right

because lawyers tend to require receptionists who look like they mean

business. On the other hand, if he's a business owner, the blond. All

businessmen think blonds are better to put out front for the

patrons. However, if there's a closeup, choose the brunette because

she's got the sexiest clitoris I've ever seen." This actually takes

the brunette over the top and she thrashes and bumps for the next

several minutes with her latest climax.

"Ah," he sighs. "All of those things are pertinent. However, I

think I'll hire both of them with the understanding that the one who

performs best is going to be in the movie and the other will be paid

off and shown the door."

I can only shake my head. Competitors for a job and making

passionate, and not unpleasant, love to each other. If he wanted

accommodating, he certainly would get his money's worth with these

two.

"Then again," he says. "Maybe I've a better idea. Girls. I want

to see who can take direction the best. The brunette has finished her

climax and is looking at him expectantly. The blond has her head

turned, looking at him as well. Their hands are stroking each other

lovingly. It's obvious that they like each other. Perhaps a great

deal.

"I'm going to give each of you two tasks. The one who does them

the best, gets the job. The other is out. Understood."

They look at each other with regret but seem to agree, nodding.

He tosses a handful of something onto the carpet beside the

girls.

"Clothespins," he says. "Valerie, pick one up now and put it on

your left nipple."

The blond does it very quickly and breathes hard as she sits on

her knees between the brunette's legs. I can see the sweat on her

forehead, something I hadn't noticed or hadn't been there a minute

before. It obviously hurts.

"Okay. Karen, do the same thing with your left nipple."

I watch as the girl gets one of the clothespins and very gently

clips it to the swollen skin. Her mouth moves but no sound escapes

but I can see her lips forming the word. Ow! She is lying back now

with a pained look on her face. I can imagine how it hurts and squirm

with the thought. I wouldn't want to try that. Karen's breathing is

ragged. The blond is still moving uncomfortably with the clothespin

hanging from her well formed tit. She seems a great deal less affected

by the clothespin, however.

"Karen?" the girl still moves around to the pain of the

clothespin. "Karen?"

She finally looks at him and I can see the tear in her eye.

"Karen, pick up another clothespin. That's it. Now put it on

Valerie's right nipple." Karen sobs and shakes her head but Valerie

leans forward and nods, glad, it seems, that Karen is being made to do

her instead of herself.

"It's all right, baby," I can just hear her whisper. Karen

finally nods and puts the clothespin on the blond's nipple. Valerie

grits her teeth against the new pain and stays leaning a little

forward to keep them from twisting even more uncomfortably.

"Fine. Okay," he says. "You're doing very well. Now Valerie. Get

the clothespin."

Valerie looks down at her friend and, at least over the last

while, lover with a pitying look on her face. Karen forces a pained

smile through her feelings and nods very tentatively, steeling herself

to what she knows is going to happen.

"Valerie," he says and stops. I can see his nasty grin now in the

half light of the room. "Valerie, put the clothespin on Karen's

clit."

We all jump at the word.

Karen cringes and turns pasty white. Valerie's head twists around

to stare at him, open mouthed. I even look at him like he's

crazy. Maybe he is.

As sensitive as this little girl's breasts are, I can only

imagine how sensitive that enlarged clit must get after being licked

and played with. I can see it plainly.

"Mr. Barnes?" Valerie moans.

"Please, no," Karen moans. "Don't make her. Don't do it to

me. Please?"

Valerie is just shaking her head back and forth.

"If you don't do it, Valerie, you're out. If you don't let her,

Karen, you're out. Everybody understood?"

Appalled, the two girls look at each other. I watch the frozen

tableau for a minute. Valerie's hand moves between her friend's legs

and Karen pales still further, cringing away from her hand. Valerie

brings her hand back up. Karen begins to cry.

"That's all," I say into the strange silence. I reach down and

take the clothespin from Valarie's hand and throw it across the

room. I think about taking the other clothespins off and decide I

might hurt them. "You don't want damaged goods, Mr. Barnes," I say

through clenched teeth. "How well would a painfully swollen clit

photograph?"

"Yes. Maybe you're right. How about, they put those clothespins

on you instead. After all, you don't even want to be photographed."

I stand up. "I also don't want this contract that badly. Thank

you for speaking to me, Mr. Barnes." I start to go up the steps.

"Okay, okay. Admirable. Please come back and sit down, Miss

Brewster. Thank you girls. You're both hired and we'll find a place

to use you." In a second, the two girls take the clothespins off and

stride up the steps past me, looking back at the man in the

chair. Both touch my hand on the way by in a kind of thank you

gesture.

Both girls grab a handful of material and shoes near the door and

the door closes behind them.

"That was cruel, Mr. Barnes. Neither of them could comply with

that and it was just a question of which would refuse the fastest. And

what would you have done if Valerie had done it and Karen had just

laid there and taken it?"

"Just what I did, actually. I always intended to hire both of

them. I was just having a little fun."

"Fun?" He nodded and put an innocent look on his face.

"I don't think either of them would say they had fun tonight."

"You always give the advice you believe in? Even if you know the

person you're giving it to isn't going to like it?"

Now I knew what this was all about. I nodded as I sat down

again. "I try to. Yes."

"And what would you do for the contract, Miss Brewster?" I looked

at him, wondering what his price was going to be.

"As you've seen, there are some things I won't put up with for

business."

"Yes. Indeed. Well, would you be willing to be in some

photographs for the business." I nodded. "Nude photos?" I frowned. I'd

have a difficult time doing that.

"What's your name, Miss Brewster?" I looked at him, wondering.

"Amy," I answered.

"Really. I did some research on your company. And there was a

Michael Brewster but no Amy. I wonder why that is. Your ... husband?"

I knew I was caught.

"Okay. You obviously know about me, Mr. Barnes."

"Not all about you. No."

"Okay. Until last Friday, I was Mike Brewster. Really, I guess,

until about six months ago. Since then, I've sort of been a mixture

of Mike and Amy Brewster."

"How fascinating," he said brightly. "But you didn't answer my

question. Would you be willing to pose for some photographs? Not for

local distribution, you know. Probably private. Or that could even be

guaranteed."

I waited for him to continue. What was this?

"You must have a secret to have those rather considerable looking

tits. Padding? Breast forms?"

"No."

"No? What does that mean?"

"It means no, no breast forms or padding."

"They're real?" I only look at him as he stares at my

chest. "How?"

My arms are crossed under the objects of discussion and I feel

more like walking out of here than I have since I arrived. "Estrogen,"

I sigh.

"Oooo. That does damage elsewhere. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, I guess," I say. "There were some problems. But they've

passed."

"Passed. You mean it went away," he said with a smirk.

"No. It didn't. Nothing did."

"You haven't had surgery then?"

I only shake my head and glare at him.

"Now listen, I'm really ..." He holds up a hand and interrupts

me.

"Miss Brewster," he says with emphasis on the "miss". "I'm about

to offer you the biggest contract your company has ever handled. After

we've worked out some details."

"Okay, there's strings. What are these details?"

"Oh, several. But one thing at a time." He smiles. "The

photographs?"

"The photographs. You want pictures before you'd sign a

contract. Right?"

"That makes it sound too much like extortion. No, that's not what

I want. What I want is for you to freely agree to a photo session. We

can even combine it with business, if you like. We can talk at the

same time. And I can tell you what I have in mind. It is probably a

kind of modification to what you were prepared to ask me for when you

came here tonight."

"But only with the pictures," I say with understanding. It sounds

like extortion to me.

"No. If you truly don't want to do the photo session, I will not

insist on it, as much as I would like it. I will, however, offer you a

second contract right now. Just between you and me. A full photo

session with a signed release for distribution outside the country in

exchange for ... let's see. For $100,000. Not for your company. Just

for you."

"$100,000. Just for one photo session. Tonight, right?" He

nods. I have a terrible thought. "No pain. No clothespins or cattle

prods or whips and chains. Right?"

"Unless you specifically ask for them." He grins.

He stood and offered his arm before leading me down the stairway

and through a door I hadn't seen when I left the elevator earlier. I'm

surprised. He's really quite a good looking man in a ruddy, dark

haired way. Perhaps in his late 40's or early 50's. Tall and solidly

built. I really hadn't noticed while he was sitting across the room.

* * *

"Mr. Barnes! Good evening, sir," the mincing little man says as

we walk into the large room. "Ohhhhh!" he says looking at me and

picking with two fingers at the frills over my left breast. "What a

beautiful woman! Oh, yes! This will be just wonderful."

He makes me nervous.

"You're all set up?" Barnes asks.

"Yes, yes, of course, sir."

"You may not like Sonny personally, Amy," Barnes says to me,

still in front of the man. Sonny's fixed smile drops. "But you'll

love his work. He's as good at photography as he is strange to be

around." Finally Sonny's face decides on acceptance of the very left

handed compliment to his talents and apparently ignores the more

personal references. "On the other hand, Sonny. You're going to love

everything about working with Amy." He smiles knowingly and is

answered by a tentative smile from Sonny.

"Oh, yes, I'm just sure I'm going to love every minute," he says

with an overly large and completely false smile. I can hear some

hesitancy in his words, though. "As we spoke about the shoot, sir?"

"Yes, Sonny. Just as we discussed."

"Would someone like to tell me?" I ask.

"I'll just lead you through everything, my dear. Just do as I say

and we'll just do fabulously!"

Now I purposefully look around the room. There are a series of

photographic light fixtures, shaped like umbrellas to properly reflect

the lights, all around a comfortable looking white couch. On the floor

in front of the couch is a white rug made of long, soft looking

fibers. Maybe a real bearskin rug, I grin to myself. Three large

video cameras are mounted on tripods -- one directly in front of the

couch, one to the right and one to the left. Between these, two

expensive looking 35 mm cameras sit on their own tripods. Wires snake

across the floor to everything. Two other cameras sit on a nearby

table. One is a Hasselblad that, I know from having priced one ten

years ago, is worth about $10,000. With the array of lenses beside it,

I'd guess at another $10,000. All of the cameras are motorized

advance, I can see. I'd guess at about $200,000 worth of photo

equipment in sight and all focused on that couch.

The light, for now, is very subdued from indirect lighting in

tracks around the room and some spotlights aimed at the ceiling.

To one side of the photo setup area is a large bed covered with

white, billowy, feather coverlets and masses of pillows. Behind the

bed is the largest single piece mirror I've ever seen. Another set of

equipment is set up here.

The rest of the large room has almost a warehouse feel to it.

"No sound, to start, right, Sonny?"

"Yes, sir." His irritation shows a little in his voice. He

couldn't say "I'm a professional, leave me alone" any more plainly

without writing it on a billboard.

"First, my dear," Sonny says to me, "please sit down and let me

get some color and light readings. This will only take a minute." He

pushes me toward the couch and I sit down. Turning to the table as I

perch on the edge of the couch with my knees tightly together, he

picks up a light meter and puts the neck strap of another, bigger

instrument around my neck.

"Oh, no," he says as he looks at me then. "Please sit back in the

cushions and relax. This really won't hurt. I promise."

He's trying to put me at ease but his entire manner puts me on

edge. I sit back on the couch and continue to hold my knees together,

my arms clasped under my breasts.

I watch his lips move as he holds the light meter near my face,

my chest, the front of the bra, the front of my thinly clad stomach,

and then my legs and knees. He puts the light meter in a small holster

at his hip and does the same thing with the other piece of

equipment. This must be some type of color meter. He moves to each of

the cameras, resetting lenses.

With a flick of a switch, he turns on the photo lights that, to

my surprise, are also very restrained. It sort of looks like daylight

around me.

He repeats all the measurements and resets each of the camera

lenses. Moving to the table, he lifts one of several 35 mm cameras and

puts the strap around his neck. He returns to me, takes my hand very

lightly, and leads me back to Barnes. He returns to the table to set a

little white timer and then turns back. Barnes is standing there with

his arms crossed just as I am. Impatient.

"Okay. Okay," Sonny says nervously. "I understand you and

Mr. Barnes have a discussion that needs ... discussing. That's just

perfect. React as you would normally. I mean just ignore me and my

camera. When I need something, I'll interrupt and ask for it, all

right? Okay? Yes. Okay."

He turns to the photo setup. "What I want, before you start

talking, is for you to move to the couch and sit down on the center

cushion. From there, just do what seems natural. Okay? Okay. As we

go, I'll ask for some things. Yes. I said that. Well, then I guess

we're off just as soon as I start the video. I'll say 'Go' and then

you, ah, go. Okay? Okay." His nervousness is contagious. I'm a bundle

of nerves now.

He walks to the furthest video camera and starts it, the center

one, and finally the near one.

"Okay? Go now. Okay?"

He crouches on the floor near the center video camera and aims

the one in his hands at me. I walk toward the couch. He starts to snap

pictures, the motor advance whirs. The other cameras, I can hear,

shoot at the same time from their tripods. I'm sure I've never had

this much attention in my life. It's embarrassing and I can feel

myself blushing.

Very conscious of the cameras, I sit down on the edge of the

couch as carefully as I have ever done in my life.

"Be comfortable now," he whispers. "Sit back in the seat."

I slide back on the cushion, very conscious of my very short

skirt as I do. I push the hem between my legs a little as I sit back.

"Is it all right if we talk business now, Sonny?"

"Yes, yes!" he snorts. "Anything to loosen her up. My goodness!

So uptight! My goodness!"

"Okay, Miss Amy Brewster," Barnes says. "Your company. First, let

me say that I got a full report on your visit this morning. You got a

barely adequate tour of the main floors of the building. Just what you

were supposed to get. Phil is a little dickhead, isn't he?"

For the first time in some time I find myself smiling a little. I

nod. The camera's shutter keeps clicking and automatically

advancing. Sometimes it seems like it clicks several times in a

second.

"We can do a great deal for you, Mr. Barnes."

"I realize that, Amy. And please call me Bill."

"Your accounting practices are five years out of date ..." I

begin, but he interrupts me again.

"Let me stop you before we spend a lot of time on the mundane,"

he says. I cross my legs and unclasp my crossed arms a little. It sets

off a flurry of photographs, I notice, frowning at the clicking

machines. Sonny is standing directly in front of one of the video

cameras, I see. I don't care.

"Excuse me," I say. "Sonny? Why the cameras to the sides if you

are shooting it all from the best angles?"

"Actually," he says without stopping, "at this point, those

cameras have the better angles. Later, mine will probably take

precedence. But please continue to ignore me. Those were the best

shots I've gotten yet."

"I'm sorry," I say to Barnes, returning my attention to him.

"That's all right. I was wondering the same thing." He has a very

nice smile, I think. "To business. Anyway, you already have a signed

contract to evaluate the systems in the administrative, database, and

ordering areas. A modest contract, I think, and a very reasonable one

I might add. Very good estimating on your Miss Bernice's behalf. Vic

what's-his-name did that. Right?"

"Yes --" I start to continue.

"However, I would never have even talked to him further. It was

time for a change and you certainly represent the best of that."

Without really noticing it, I have turned on the couch toward him and

have one arm resting on the back comfortably. The camera is still

clicking and whirring.

"You are, Miss Amy, the savior of the business. Now, what I want

to tell you is that you aren't going to just do an evaluation of the

adequacy of my system. I've known for some time that it is inadequate

to the needs in virtually all areas. With the possible exception of

the databases. The on-line services. But those badly need some help

with access from the outside. Right?"

"Yes," I say, my mouth open in surprise. I thought I was going to

have to sell this idea hard.

"Your company has the contract. I'll expect an estimate of cost

by the end of the week and we can sign some time this weekend or the

beginning of next week." He smiles again. I realize my fingers are now

playing with the side of my hair, a habit I've picked up since my

permanent. I can't keep from smiling back. The camera clicks and

whirs.

"I know that there are some new areas of interest for your

company --" I begin before he raises his hand to stop me.

"As you very well know, I'm getting into several new outlets. The

video is pretty well established but now CD-ROM and the alternate

on-line services are up and running. Have you seen any of their

advertising?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Or maybe I don't recognize it as

yours."

"Perhaps. At any rate, the whole thing is being very poorly

handled. Tomorrow, I'd like you to come to this floor to meet with

me. We'll go through the more clandestine areas of the building then.

"Oh, by the way, so Phil doesn't get too bad a rap. He has no

idea what's on the top floors of this building or buried inside the

mainframe. He's not very good at keeping a secret, so he isn't told

any secrets."

I couldn't help but clap my hands in enjoyment. I also uncrossed

my legs before I noticed and restored my old position.

"Do you think you could make it for breakfast about, oh, 8:30 or

9?"

"Sure," I say.

"Good. You know. Your little intelligence unit is really pretty

good. I mean your company's."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. I would have missed that they'd been into some things

if it weren't for a very vigilant secretary on the second floor. When

Vic took her out a couple of weeks ago and fucked her limited brains

out, she had the grace to tell her supervisor the next

morning. Bragged actually."

I laugh uproariously, throwing my head back. When I close my

eyes, the clicking of the camera comes into my consciousness and I

realize that I've adopted a rather strange new habit that I haven't

noticed until this moment. When I laugh hard, I slide my uppermost leg

up across my thigh almost to the ankle. I know it's a quite feminine

movement and wonder where in the world I picked it up. Linda never

does this. I quickly recover but know that it's already far too late.

I blush a little and look at Sonny before returning my attention

to Barnes.

"You're enjoying yourself much more now, aren't you," he says.

"Yes. Yes, I am." I think for a moment. "I'm curious though."

He waits for my question.

"Why the show upstairs?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I needed some stars and I didn't want

them to think it was too easy. And I enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

"No," I say. "I really didn't. I guess you have to be a woman

..." I was going to say, "to appreciate that pain," but I realized

what I was saying. After all, I'm not a woman.

This time, he laughs and even claps his hands.

I'll bet Sonny is confused but he never pauses in recording

everything happening.

"Tomorrow, when you've seen the system and the extent of the

problems, we can discuss what we are going to do about it. Okay?"

"Agreed," I answer.

"Okay. So now you know you are going to share in your company's

great good fortune. At least to the extent of your 25 percent of the

company." I smile at him.

"Maybe your intelligence isn't so good. I bought into Sam

Prescott's partnership a few months ago. It's 35 percent now."

"Okay. Then 35 percent of a starting contract of, what would you

guess, maybe $200,000?" I nod. "There's 70 grand. This other, I don't

know. I rough guess it over a million."

"Really? That big. I mean, your systems are that big?"

"Yeah. I was being conservative in hopes that your company would

be, too." He grins boyishly. "There's another 350."

I nod with what I'm sure is a stupid smile on my face. Bernice is

going to shit when I tell her. This could easily be the biggest

contract we've ever had. Easily.

"Now I've got a question." I look at him dumbly. "Does $100,000

really mean what it did to you an hour ago?"

Now I know what he's talking about. This photo session. And

suddenly I remember the clicking camera and where I am.

"I'll have to admit. It doesn't have the same impact. But, then

again, since it didn't mean enough to me to do this in the first

place, it has very little more effect now?" Now he looks shocked.

"It didn't mean much to you?"

"No," I say with a smile, my head shaking lightly. "I'm only

doing it because it sounded like a lark. Getting paid for it, too, is

just gravy."

"So, you don't need the money?" I laugh with him and notice my

leg come up again.

"I didn't say I wouldn't take it. Only an idiot does anything for

free unless its love and I don't really think that was a

consideration."

Now he's about to fall on the floor laughing and I know my smile

is from ear to ear. I'm glad he's taking it this way. I was afraid he

might not.

"Oh, you're wonderful!" he says. "So refreshing."

I can only smile back at him. I like him.

"Okay," he finally says. "What did you think you were going to do

for that money?" There's a smile in his voice now that hadn't been

there before. It was all business then. What he could buy. Now we were

both enjoying ourselves. I notice that I'm really loose now. No stage

fright and the cameras are just noisy accompaniment.

"I was going to seductively take my clothes off and show you I'm

no lady." He understands the real meaning of the joke and laughs hard

again. I know Sonny has no idea at all and enjoy knowing that. I just

hope he doesn't lose his camera when he understands.

"Do you want to take my clothes off or do you prefer to stay in

the background?" I ask then.

"No, no. This is your show. I'm just here to break the ice."

I nod. "Get ready, Sonny," I say. "The good stuff's coming."

Again Bill guffaws.

I reach behind my back with both hands and unfasten the fluffy

top of the dress. It doesn't loosen in the least because the straps go

under the shoulder straps of the dress. I put my hand over my right

breast and gently massage it, looking at Bill who is, in turn staring

at the back of my hand.

I let my fingers loosen the top a little as I slide them under

the top. Sonny almost leaps in front of my eyes, between Bill and I,

to snap a picture before Bill leans to the side over his shoulder. I

smile.

Two of my fingers find my nipple and I'm a little surprised to

notice that it's already swollen. It feels good but I exaggerate the

feeling several fold by closing my eyes most of the way and letting my

tongue find my lips. I even release a little moan for them.

Then, with my other hand, I pull one side of the top from under

the dress's restraining straps. I slide the palm of my hand over the

nearly exposed breast. Then I do the same thing with the other side of

the bra, covering one breast with my hand and the other with my

crossed arm. I drop the top on the couch beside me pointedly before

looking back up at Bill over the photographer's shoulder. He acts as

if he is going to swat Sonny on the head because he got in the way of

his view. It makes me smile again. This is fun.

I turn my hand so that, when I look down, I can see my swollen

nipple but it isn't visible to them yet. My tongue is on my

lip. Another interesting female move I didn't realize I had picked up

until this minute. With the other hand, I reach down into the cup of

my palm and, with two fingers, roll the soft flesh in my fingers.

"Do you want to see it?" I ask Bill as the camera clicks and

whirs.

"Fuck yes!" he almost screams. "For God's sake."

I continue holding it in my fingers as I roll my palm off it. I'm

gratified when I hear his, "Oh, yeah!" sigh. "Beautiful!" Sonny says

in a mumble. The top of the dress actually holds my breasts up as I

move my arm and my fingers from them. "Fantastic!" both men say in

unison.

I lean back on the couch with my legs crossed at the knee onto my

elbows, watching Bill and, indirectly, the camera. I display. I let my

head fall all the way back until I can feel my hair dangling straight

toward the cushion. Sonny shoots full time with the automatic rewind

advancing the camera as fast as one shot is taken.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he says then. "I have to reload. Ah. Can

you ... ah ... oh, shit."

"I'll stay right here," I say. I look at Bill and see him settle

into his cross-armed stance again but this time with a knowing smile

on his face.

Sonny absolutely flies across the room to reload film in the hand

held camera and then the other two 35 mm cameras. Now he has the

Hasselblad as well. "One thousand shot cartridge," he says as he pats

the big camera. "Guess he's not going to miss anything else."

"Okay, Amy, I'm ready." I've chilled out in the two minute break

but I work to regain it, looking at Bill and his smile. I reach up and

tweak the nipple of one breast again and hear the camera begin to

shoot again. I let my head go back as it was and feel the wanton

feeling of my bare chest being raised to view as I did a minute

before.

It's really getting to me. I can feel myself getting hard under

the frilly skirt and can only hope that it doesn't show yet. I let my

leg lift upward until one high heel is nearly touching the back of my

thigh. With the frilly panties, I don't think they can see anything

yet even though I'm really hard and getting uncomfortable with that.

I lay back flat on the couch and use both hands to rub my breasts

and then to pull on my nipples. Looking between the fleshy mounds, I

can see Bill holding his hand to his mouth. He's smiling broadly and

enjoying every movement. But he doesn't want to add any more comments.

"Oh, yes, baby," Sonny mumbles. He's even got a hard-on I can see

in his Chinos. I continue to play with my nipples for several minutes

until they are almost painfully sensitive. Even the areola are swollen

now.

"Do you want my panties now?" I ask huskily. Bill smiles and

nods, still holding his hand across his mouth.

"Yes. Now. That's good. Slow now," Sonny says. "Let me get it

all. Yes." His words are almost moans.

I put my thumbs in the sides of the panties and lift my bottom

from the couch. Click. Click. The Hasselblad comes up and into

action. It's motor control is much faster than the 35 mm. Maybe 1000

shots isn't enough. It's almost like movie film.

I push the panties downward until they are on the fronts of my

thighs and quickly ensure that my front is still covered by the

skirt. It is. I push the panties to my knees, bending one and pointing

the other to the far wall. Bill is frozen. I settle my bottom back

onto the couch and lift both feet to slide the panties off and, being

very careful, across my sexy shoes.

I spread my legs, the short skirt falling between them, as I drop

the panties onto the floor. Again I put my thumbs into the sides,

this time of my pantyhose, and push down. With no support, now I have

to be more careful. I bend up at the waist, my breasts dropping onto

my knees, as I push the pantyhose to my ankles. They are effectively

tied together as I spread my knees and put my hands across the front

of the skirt provocatively.

Bill's smile is about to break his face as he stands behind the

photographer with his hand still on his mouth. He's watching very

closely. The camera is still clicking regularly but not as fast as a

few moments ago.

"Okay, now," Sonny says. "Real slow now. Let's see it. Okay?" I

grin broadly at Bill as I start rubbing across the front of the skirt,

lifting it by fractions of an inch. He moves his hands away from his

mouth then and puts them behind Sonny as if to catch him. I laugh out

loud. I can feel my hardness in the same hand as I can feel the hem of

the skirt.

I look at Sonny now and in a slow, steady movement, pull the

skirt up until it is above my hard cock. Then, one hand under my

remnant balls, I wrap my other hand around it and peel back the loose

skin, letting the purple head of it stand out a couple of inches above

my fist.

"Oh, God! Oh, my god! Jesus! Oh, oh," Sonny says as he falls back

toward Bill. Bill actually catches and supports him in his near

fall. The Hasselblad is now locked on shoot and clicks off pictures

like a movie as I stroke myself. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, " Sonny

continues. "Oh, look at that! Oh, shit!"

I can't believe it as I watch the front of his pants become dark

with his climax. "Ohhhhhh!" he says.

And at that second the whole idea gets to me. My come shoots up

over the frilly skirt material onto my breasts. One spurt even lands

on my face. And then I feel it all over my hand.

Feeling something on my cheek, I put out my tongue and lick

it. Salty. My own come, I think. I haven't shot a wad like that since

I was about 12.

Bill really is holding Sonny up now though the man's finger has

never left the shutter release of the camera.

I collapse, releasing my softening dick, falling into the perfect

afterglow. I hear the Hasselblad stop, stutter, and begin re-rolling

the film at high speed. I wonder if Sonny will survive as I hear

Bill's loud laughter ringing through the room.

Chapter 9

BILL LAUGHS AS he holds Sonny up from his "swoon." Then I take over,

after taking my shoes and panties off, leading him to the restroom by

one arm. He almost protests before we both go into the restroom

together. I think he was going to tell me where the girl's room was

and then reality hit him again and he almost collapsed.

I was in a very strange position. With my own come dripping down

my face and naked breasts, I made a wonderful sight, I'm sure. My

partially hard member insisted on trying to hold the skirt up by

itself. While I helped Sonny, it was on its own.

The bathroom, though it truly was a men's room, had the homey

touch of a bath, shower, and towels and washcloths in addition to a

couple of stalls, three urinals, and a row of sinks. There were also

a set of school style lockers to one side beside a wooden bench.

At least this is available, I think as I let Sonny go into the

stall.

"Oh, my," he keeps saying over and over. "Oh, my, what a

mess. Oh, my." But he sounds pretty happy as he cleans up.

Meanwhile, I wash my face and my still naked chest. Carefully, I

brush the few small spots of come on the front of the dress that

clings below my soft tits. Then, lifting the skirt up and holding it

with one elbow, I work on my dick. The end of it, of course, is coated

with come and it has dribbled down my leg as well. This is the

position I'm in as Sonny leaves the stall.

Seeing him in the mirror, I wonder if he's going to have a heart

attack. His face goes white, his breathing increases erratically, he

holds his hand to his chest. The signs are right. He can hardly walk

as he crosses the two steps to stand in front of me, his eyes wide, to

watch me.

Trying to make it easier on him, I pull my skirt back down.

"Oh, such a surprise!" he says effusively, touching my

shoulder. "I just thought I'd have a heart attack right there!" he

squeals.

I can only smile as I lead him out of the bathroom. I return to

stand in front of the couch but Sonny starts to vibrate. "Oh, no, no,

no!" He says loudly. "We're all done here. My goodness!"

Bill, who's standing near the couch, leans near my ear. "I think

you have a fan," he says softly. I smile. "Actually," he says then,

"you've got a couple of fans." He's staring at my exposed breasts. I

blush again and step away from him.

"Okay. Okay!" Sonny says as he bounds around the other set of

cameras near the bed. "Okay. Now. Oh, yes."

"You've made his day," Bill says.

"It seems," I say equally as softly.

"Please! Please, Amy. Come here!" Sonny says. "Here," he says,

thrusting a white handful of lacy material at me. "Put this on, right

now. Quickly! We don't want to waste Mr. Barnes' time. Just this one

more shoot now!"

But he freezes, watching me, as I pull the straps off my

shoulders and wriggle the dress off my hips. They've grown and my

waist has shrunk since I began taking the estrogen. They really look

very good and I've been pleased. But I haven't displayed it quite like

this before.

As I stand naked, he starts the video cameras again and stoops

and bobs into new still camera shots. I'm not too embarrassed because

I'm not particularly turned on. At least my dick points leisurely

downward.

"Panties first. Yes. Oh yes! Very nice," he exudes. He's

obviously having fun now. "Yes. Now do you tuck it back? Oh,

yes. Yes!" he says as I do it and pull the panties of the white

nightgown tight. The front of it certainly wouldn't have covered it

and the tiny stretch of material between my legs only barely covers

and holds it.

I drop the lacy nightie over my head. "Personally," Bill says

with a grin, "I like the top." He's looking at my breasts.

"Yes, very nice," Sonny says with less interest. I'm still just

standing in front of the bed. "Now move back onto the bed. On your

knees, okay?"

"Is it going to disturb your session if I talk to her?" Bill

says.

"Oh, no sir!" Sonny answers quickly. "Please just move around on

the bed. Do what you feel is natural. But go ahead and talk if you

wish. That's just fine."

"So, did you just wake up one morning and decide you wanted to be

a beautiful woman?" Bill asked. I blushed at the compliment.

"No. Actually, my wife made me do it." I don't know what made me

admit that. I could have said almost anything.

"Made you?"

"Uh, huh." I was watching Sonny's moves with the camera and

trying to do something interesting for him even if it was just

swinging my hair around my face or something. He seemed to like that.

"She made you become a beautiful woman?"

"Well, if I'm beautiful, I don't think she intended that. She was

just very pissed at me one night and decided to humiliate me."

"Humiliate you this way?"

"Oh, it's lasted for six months and really been quite

effective. She gave me the pills without my knowing it for quite a

while. I mean, I had enlarged nipples and about A cups before she told

me about it. She never offered to stop giving them to me."

"So you did all this under duress?" I nod.

"I never even had any idea I could pass for a woman in public

until she forced me."

"Really? What did the first time out feel like?"

"That was the night she got mad at me. There wasn't much

choice. It was either do what she said or pack and I didn't want to

pack. I love her."

"Oh, my," Sonny says with disgust. He is still aiming and

shooting as I move around.

"She made me go to a hotel near our house to get a paper for

her. Dressed in a dress and high heels. Then she caught up with me and

took me into the lounge. Then I had to play the part the best I could

or get killed."

"I've been there!" Sonny says with sincerity.

"Why's that?" Bill asks.

"There were a couple of truckers who were hanging around for

Linda. Maybe for me a little. I mean I danced a few times that night."

"Ooooo, truckers. Just so big and strong and healthy. From

turning that big steering wheel, I think," Sonny hissed.

"For months, she made me wear women's clothing all the time at

home but let me go to work as a man. Then Monday, she changed the

rules."

"Probably because you're getting so stacked," Bill said. "Are you

still growing?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Have you changed below? I mean your dick?"

"Yeah, it's a little smaller and ... I don't know ... I get

turned on differently than I used to. What I think of as more

feminine ways."

"It's smaller now?" Sonny says. "Oh, for before!"

I can only giggle at him. He really is cute in an obvious sort of

way.

"Have you gotten laid? As a woman?"

"Yeah." I can't think why I'm sharing this sort of intimate

information with Bill.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Ah, yeah. Yeah, I did." I smile.

"Have you thought about the future?" Bill asks. "It seems you

have some very interesting possibilities. More than most people."

Though I have thought a little about them, he ticks them off. "You can

stop taking the pills and start dressing as a man. You can have the

surgery and become a full fledged woman. Or you can stay just as you

are. Right?"

"I guess those are the options."

"Which do you prefer?"

"I'm not sure. I spent a lot of years as a man. I don't think I

had as much fun as I've had in the last six months. And, besides, I

like women's clothes." I look at Sonny. "Besides, I have my own pair

of tits to play with." I do it for the cameras and the tempo of the

shutter clicks increases. I know my nipples are hard again and my

dick is straining at the little strip of material between my legs.

"I think I'd probably prefer being a full fledged woman, but I

don't see that happening for a while." I look at Bill. "At least until

I get some percentages of all that cash you've been talking about. I

understand the surgery can be quite expensive if it's well

done. That's the only way I'd want it done."

"I guess it can be almost microscopically perfect," Bill says

then. "For the right price, as you say."

I lay back on the bed and hump my center up in the air for Sonny,

my smooth tummy showing through the panty material to the pubic

area. Tucked like this, it doesn't hardly show at all. I start getting

myself excited as I rub across that material with one hand and pinch

my swollen nipples with the other.

"I understand you have to live as a woman for a full year, with a

little professional counseling thrown in before you can have the

surgery."

"You're very well informed. You didn't call someone today to

learn about this, did you?" I know he had.

"Of course," he says. "I wouldn't buy a toaster without knowing

everything I could about it. That's more true when you're buying

someone's services."

"Of course." It peeves me a little. He doesn't even depend on

luck or honesty for anything. I guess you don't make the big money

with luck or dependance on someone else's honesty. Too bad you can't.

"Now I want to talk about a couple more deals with you. You did

come to talk business, right?" he smiles.

"Yes, I did," I answer as coolly as you can when you are hunched

up on a feather bed, playing with your tits and rubbing your stomach

through an almost clear stretch of white material in front of three

video cameras and a roving photographer.

"Okay. First, I'd like to make a movie with you as the star. See

how many ways there are to make love to that fabulous body in front of

a camera. High production values. The best supporting stars I can

find. What do you think?"

"I'm not a movie star. I don't know if I could even act if I had

to."

"Well, though the production values will be high, there doesn't

seem to be a real in-depth plot line to this kind of thing. A few well

practiced lines and then some choreography. And as sexy as you are,

most of that will come naturally."

"I'll have to think about it. But I'm not saying no

outright. Okay?"

"Fair enough. The other thing is a project I've thought about for

a while. Sort of a documentary. I've just been looking for a subject

worthy of the effort. And I think I've got it."

"What's that?" I am laying on my side now, leaning on my forearm

and looking at him.

"I'd like to document your last few months and the next few."

"My life? You're kidding?"

"Not at all. First it would be a hell of a sexy thing. The other

is that I believe a lot of men think about what it would be like to be

a woman. Even to change. You did before it started happening, didn't

you?"

"Yeah, I did," I nod.

"We'd start by seeing if we could bundle you up enough to look

like your old self."

"I wouldn't cut my hair for this," I say quickly.

"Okay. That can be handled. Then move up through all your

experiences until now."

"Okay," I say hesitantly. It sounds all right if a little boring.

"Then we do some covert filming of your work with a counselor. If

we kept it completely out of sight, even kept the psychologist from

knowing about the filming, you could do that, couldn't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose." For some reason, I'm rubbing between my legs

now and squirming a little. Why in the world should this excite me?

"Then we'll move to filming of your interviews with your doctor

and the planning for the surgery."

"I already told you that might be a long way off, if I do it at

all."

"If you're not sure you want to do it, that's something I'm sure

the counseling will discover. Right? Isn't that what the counseling is

for?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But I still can't afford it. Not with a good

doctor and the best possible operating conditions."

"That's nothing. That's just part of the minor costs of film

production."

"You mean, you'd pay for the operation in return for being able

to film it?"

"Sort of. Of course, you'd be well paid as the star, as well. I

mean, this has nothing to do with your salary for the work. This is a

production cost, after all." He's grinning from ear to ear. I'm

feeling a little faint.

I roll back onto my back and look up at the ceiling toward the

overhead mirror I hadn't noticed before. Sonny looks like he's

shooting straight down from it to me. I ignore him.

"I don't know anything about the surgery," I protest.

"If it's only crossed your mind, I'm sure that's true. Remember

you'll have six months or more to make the final decision. And, I want

to emphasize, you don't have to agree to the surgery if you don't

truly want it. Right up to the minute they start cutting."

I cringe physically at that word. It makes my dick curl up as if

in defense, seeking a way out. I'm looking at the spot between my legs

now in the mirror instead of Sonny, who's still reflected in it as

well. I can see he has a small bald spot developing in the crown of

his head. I spread my legs somewhat, one bent at the knee and stuck

under the other leg, making a figure four. I rub it in a kind of

sympathy.

"Oh, such a waste," Sonny moans. "Such a waste."

"And I can pull out anytime, right?"

"That's what I said. Absolutely." I can hear the smile in his

voice. He knows he's got me and so do I. "Then, of course, we'd follow

you for a while after the surgery. Your recovery. Your checkups. Your

love life for a while, of course. Would that be a problem?"

"Shit!" I say suddenly. "You're planning on closeups of them

cutting my dick off and think I'd be worried about being filmed while

I got laid the first time?"

"You wouldn't then?" he asks.

"If it gets that far, I don't think that would bother me at all."

I put my arm under the back of my head then, leaning it forward. Sonny

is right in front of me, still taking pictures. "But ... One contract

at a time. Right? Sonny, tell me what to do."

"Wonderful. Yes!" he says. "Okay. Okay. Okay, now. Now just roll

up onto your knees. Yes! Wonderful. Very nice. Let's give the

straights something to think about now. Yes. Straight down that big

open collar. Yes!"

He's shooting from five feet in front of me and looking right

down between my breasts. When I drop my head, I can see my nipples

very plainly, my distended breasts, and down to my knees where they

press into the bed. I look up at him with what I hope is a sexy smile.

"The top. Yes. Off with the top, now."

I sit up on my knees and lift the light material over my head. I

purposely act as if my arms are tied up in the material for a moment,

both arms above my head and my tits completely exposed to the camera.

"Move to this side, Sonny," Bill says from my right. "A

magnificent view for us 'straights' if I ever did see one."

"Keep looking to your front, Amy. Yes. Perfect." Of course, he's

immediately begun moving to the side with Bill. I drop the nightie on

the bed and reach down for a nipple in a finger and the thumb of each

hand. I look at them as I roll the flesh for a minute. Then I pull

them gently until they're almost cone shaped. I slide my hands under

the mounds of flesh and bounce them and knead them. My head goes back,

my hair hanging down and tickling the skin of my back as I do.

"Naturally sexy," one of the men says softly. I don't know when I

did it, but I'm straight up on my knees, my body a line from knee to

neck, broken only by those sensitive mounds.

Now I slide the red-tipped fingers of one hand down across my

stomach slowly until I feel the top of the tiny panties. I let my hand

slide into it and between my legs. I risk a look to the side by

shaking my head slowly back and forth, as if with the terrific

feelings of it. Sonny has moved one of the set cameras and one of the

video cameras to the position to my side and now ranges toward my

front and then around to my backside and then again to the side and

the front.

I try simulating a woman with her fingers between her legs,

rubbing my fingers on either side of my radically bent dick there. I

do that over and over until I feel the possibility of losing my hold

on it and having it fall out one of the leg holes. I bend forward

suddenly, almost as if I'm in the throes of a climax, and clasp my

knees together before making room in the crotch of the panties and

turning myself so I point up in a more comfortable position.

Covertly, I guide it up the pantyline toward my hip. My hand

hides it somewhat as I rise back to my straight-backed position on my

knees. I continue to rub between my legs and, in the process,

straighten my shrunken testicles. But this has the effect of turning

me on more than before.

I watch as Sonny moves behind me. It's as if he's looking for it

specially, trying to unmask me before I'm ready. I slide my fingers

far between my legs and pull the panties aside back there. My fingers

move across the sensitive spot over and over as the camera locks again

on rapid fire. Then I slide my middle finger into the tight little

hole there to the middle knuckle.

Pumping forward and back on it, I straighten it and press the

remainder into myself smoothly. I pull it out some and then back in

two or three times. Then I stop with it poised to plunge in again only

to pair it with my index finger, burying them both deep inside. I do

this until I hear his camera slow again to individual clicks instead

of the automatic fire. I've been throwing my head, my hair acting like

little whips, from side to side for minutes now. Straightening one leg

and pointing it to the side, makes my manipulation feel even better.

My muscles vibrate as my breasts bound.

Gauging where he is by the sound of the camera, I roll to my back

and slide my hand back through my widely spread legs, across my soft

testicles under the thin material, and straight up the length of my

cock until my fingers are each poised around the very tip, holding it

up straight above the elastic of the panties.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," Sonny begins chanting. The camera is locked

on automatic again as he continues to chant and move around to the

side, back, forward to my fingers as they move down the length of it,

then to a point near my knee where the camera looks up my leg, across

my exposed dick, across my stomach and breasts, to my grimacing face.

A very fast stop, changes the angle to one looking directly down

from the ceiling at me again. I can see his hand zooming the lens in

and out as it looks down at me. I point my toes straight down the

length of my legs, then bend them up at the waist, then at the knees.

It's impossible! I'm going to come again with only this minor

manipulation. I arch my back and thrust my stretched toes straight

down the length of my body and shoot.

"Ahhhh," I hear from somewhere as I see the globs of come leaping

into the air to fall on my breasts and stomach. Then again and a new

series of globules arcs up and back down.

My neck has bent my head so far back that I am looking at Sonny

in the mirror at the head of the bed. He's upside down and I

momentarily feel completely disoriented before the feeling all crashes

together again and sound comes back and the bright light I was seeing

dims somewhat. I drop my hand out to my side, as my other has been and

listen to the tide roaring through my ears.

Then the chant comes back to me from my side. When I relax my

neck and look up at the overhead mirror again, I see myself

spread-eagled on the bed, my hair fanned around my face, by breasts

and face flushed with the climax, and my dick pulsing above my center.

"Okay. That's it, Sonny," Bill says softly.

Sonny only now stops the chant and looks at his boss. If I had

the energy to spare or the presence of mind, I'd duck as he drops the

camera on the edge of the bed and launches himself toward my body. His

tongue is licking the come off my cock so fast that when I curl my

legs around my middle it only serves to trap him. His mouth is fully

over my softening tool.

The surprise passing, I lift my hand and pet his thinning hair as

he continues to clean the come off my body. Bill doesn't say anything,

so I just lay there and let him lick up my stomach, between my

breasts, across my nipples, and down onto my chest for the sticky

cream. Finally, his lips wet with it, he kisses me as if he is

embarrassed by his rashness and is apologizing.

"Magnificent!" he says from a couple of inches in front of my

face before he begins to back away. I pet his hair again and smile.

"Thanks," I whisper for him.

"Any time! I mean any, any, any time at all!" he squeals.

"Sonny?" Bill says. "When can I expect something?"

He remembers his job then and almost leaps off the edge of the

bed. "You can have the videotape now, of course." As if to make it

immediately true, he moves to one of the machines and ejects the large

cartridge, offering it to Bill. "I should be able to have contact

sheets in an hour and a short set in say another two or three."

"No, no, Sonny. Soup your film and get me a set of contacts. Then

go on home to your hubby. Tomorrow will be plenty soon for the rough

set and I'll have the best ones marked for you before noon. Thursday

for finals, okay?"

"Okay? But I can work faster than that for you. I've got my heart

in this one, sir!" he smiles.

"I saw that," Bill smiles back at him. Sonny immediately begins

unloading the cartridges and putting them in a large box.

Bill looks down at me from the side of the bed. "You must be

exhausted," he says.

"No, I'm fine," I say in spite of the wonderful logy feeling that

fills my body.

"Good. Then, this time, use the girls' room. It's set up a little

better for ladies than the men's. Take a shower or, if you want, a

nice long bath. Then throw something in there on and come

upstairs. I'll see you then." I look at my watch and see that it's

only 10 and nod. It feels like I've been doing this for a lot longer.

Bill turns and walks out the door. I start to get up and see

Sonny pressing automatic rewind buttons all over the room. He sees me

both alone and watching him, smiles, and comes back to the side of the

bed.

"Hey, listen," he says. "I'm sorry about what I did. I just

... you know ... I couldn't ..."

"It's all right," I smile. "I liked it."

"Some straight guys find it real disgusting," he said with a

funny grin in imitation of his perception.

"I'm bi, Sonny. It's really all right."

"Really? You're bi? But I thought you must be pretty straight

from the story you were telling."

"More straight, I guess. But not altogether."

He looks down at me laying there, spread out, my dick totally

soft now and being held firmly to my stomach by the elastic of the

panties. They are really "very" small.

"God," he moans. "I even love your tits. And I'm not even a

little bit straight."

I laugh. "Then you wouldn't mind too much helping me up like the

big macho guy you are." Now he throws his head back and laughs

heartily.

"Not at all. Not at all." He holds his hand out to me and then

gives me support while I pull myself into a seated position. He

doesn't let go as I slide my ass across the bed to the edge, where my

feet can slide off and touch down. He holds on strongly enough to pull

me to my feet. Barefoot, we're exactly the same height.

"Oh, Sonny," I say, putting my arms around his neck loosely and

letting his hands fall to my waist on both sides. "That was really a

lot of fun. I'll remember it forever."

"Me, too," he whispers softly. Impulsively, I lean forward into

his arms until my breasts are pressed into his sports shirt

solidly. My mouth covers his as my arms tighten around his neck. I

let my tongue delve deep into his mouth and he moans from the bottom

of his soul.

Then he pushes me away. "You've got a shower to take and I've got

to get this film souped. Then," he gulps, "I've got to get some sleep

so I can work my cute little ass off for the next three or four days."

He stops with his eyes glistening. "But if you have any time from

Friday night to the end of my worthless life, I'll be there to kiss

you, play with your tits, suck your cock, stick my tongue up your ass,

fuck you, be your butt fuck, or anything else you can think of.

Okay?"

"You got a sometime date, Sonny," I smile.

"And I don't care if my hubby kicks my ass for a month for doing

it either." He slides away from me and returns to the camera backs to

pull the film. "Hey, at least I'm going to get to look at every inch

of your beautiful body every minute of the rest of this week. And I

hope a bunch of weeks after that, too."

I cross the big room to the bathrooms and push into the girls'

room. Bill's right. It's gorgeous.

* * *

This room is set up completely different. There are three stalls

with toilet and bidet sitting side by side. There's a huge mirror with

indirect natural lighting from both above and below. In one corner

there's a trio of floor to ceiling mirrors that somehow allow you to

look at yourself straight on, from the side and from behind and

slightly to one side.

It was quite an experience in the near nude.

While just turning my head, I can look at the tiny panties from

all angles and see just the way they hold my dick within them and

between my ass cheeks. I can also see my very good chest from the

front and both sides. My tits are very close to perfect, I think. I

can also see my face and hair from either side, the back and straight

on. My nose is a little big and my lipstick is smeared all over the

place. But, other than that, it looks very good.

Rather than just lockers, there are three large closets in this

room. Looking into them, I can see all kinds of outfits from

see-through negligee to fur coats. One of the coats is as soft as cat

fur with the fur on both the inside and outside.

There are drawers full of underwear and stockings. One closet is

filled with shoe trees, each shelf marked with a different size. All

the heels are very high.

On the far wall is a rather wide shower stall with a single glass

door in the middle. It looks like there are several shower

nozzles. Beside it is a large bathtub with two sculptured seats in it

side by side facing opposite directions. There are amiable nozzles

along the bottom and all sides for a Jacuzzi. It was tempting for a

moment. But I decide to do the shower.

I pull the panties down and off my legs. Then I find a washrag,

towel, and scented soap. The spray of the shower, from three

different ways at once, makes me feel as if I am going to be drowned

though they are centered on a point about bellybutton high. Standing

in the center, they spray my chest and my ass. Moving back, they spray

my shoulders and between my legs. There's a 10-button pad on the wall.

When I press "1" the sprays are needle sharp and tiny. "2" makes

them broader. "3" is like a gentle waterfall. "4" shuts off two of the

nozzles, "5" shuts off just one, and "6" restores the three

nozzles. "7" produces a slow and gentle pulsing while "8" and "9" make

it increasingly fast. "0" shuts all the nozzles off, I assume to

allow you to soap up. I do that now that it's off. Rubbing the

fragrant soap into a slightly oily lather in the washrag, I rub it

over my shoulders. It tingles on my skin, something I haven't felt

before.

I rub the textured cloth under my arms and down them then across

my breasts. This soap produces an inordinate amount of lather that

tingles and stands in billows on my hardened nipples. I try to reach

my back with one hand and then the other, doing a pretty good

job. Then I lather the areas between my legs in front and in back.

The sensitive skin of my ass and the head of my dick tingle

outrageously to the thick foam. It feels good on my legs and feet,

too. The tingling, though, makes me go back and continue the rubbing

with the rougher washcloth, paying particular attention to my dick,

ass, and tits. Finally, I use the washcloth on my face and neck before

setting the soap and cloth down blindly.

Reaching out, I push a button on the middle row and feel my body

hit from all three sides by the soft spray. I lean forward and wash

the soap out of my eyes and mouth before pressing the "2" button and

the "9" button. The rapid pulsation of the three moderately hard

streams of hot water quickly wash off the soap and stimulate my

skin. For just a few seconds, I press the "1" button to feel the

enervating needle streams of pulsating water all over my body.

I press the "0" button before turning the water faucets back

off. My hair is only barely wet.

Stepping back out of the stall, I move to the mirror. I look

pretty plain without makeup but the rosy color of my nipples almost

makes up for the lack.

There's a button beside the mirror that says dryer. I push it. An

infrared heat lamp comes on above my head a few seconds before a hot

wind starts blowing from all sides. I find the nozzles and lean my

hair toward one of them while the others blow across my naked skin

from several directions including between my legs. The towel helps the

drying process along but, I can see, would not really be necessary.

I push the button again and feel the cool air return around me. A

drawer at the side of the sink includes all sorts of makeup, lipstick,

nail polish, and perfume. I put perfume on several spots of my body

then apply mascara, eyebrow pencil and just a little eye shadow. Then

I renew my lipstick with good results. I have a face again. A

hairbrush, along with all sorts of combs, curlers, and curling irons,

lets me touch up my hair.

I move to the underwear drawers. There seems to be all varieties

of panties, bras, and stockings in the drawer but, in fact, all of the

panties are french cut, very small at the middle, and sheer. All the

bras are sheer and lacy. All the stockings are thigh highs, clinging

around each leg seductively. I wasn't wearing a bra before so I don't

get one now. I have a black dress I realize is in the other room but

choose a pair of baby blue lace panties that do almost nothing toward

holding me. I chose a pair of sheer, flesh-tone stockings and sit on a

comfortable lounge chair to put them on.

In the shoe cupboard, I pick a pair of blue spike heels in my

size. My dress is probably a mess from earlier so I look through the

outfits. I think about a blouse and skirt but decide not. Then I look

at a little jumpsuit that's sort of appealing and decide against

it. Then I look at the dresses and don't see anything I'm really

excited about either. There is one long, slinky looking sheath dress

that looks kind of sexy but it's blue color and my shoes clash.

I decide to try on the fur coat I saw earlier. Just try it on

before I put it back and pick out something to wear.

I get it and slip it over my arms and shoulders, crossing it over

in the middle and tying the fur sash connected to the sides. The top,

for some reason, sits around my neck but opens onto my upper

shoulders, the vee of the opening falling down between my breasts. The

bottom of it comes to the top of my knees but, when I walk across the

room I see that it is lightweight enough that it opens at the bottom

and even blows back along the sides of my thighs.

The feeling inside the fur, the softness rubbing all over my

still tingling skin, is wonderful -- particularly when I walk. Well, I

think, I'll wear it until I check out my own dress. I'll wear it if it

isn't stained. If it is, I'll come back and choose something

different.

I can walk in these spike heels, I'm happy to see, even if they

do make me walk with a very pronounced swing to my ass. I look in the

three-way mirror and smile. I look fabulous from any direction, my

freshly dried hair billowing around my face and the white fur

surrounding me.

I push open the door of the bathroom and walk to my dress. When I

look at it, I see the obvious white spots of my come on the front of

it where they've dried. I can't wear that now to talk to Barnes. I'll

have to pick out something else. I start to but decide instead that

this is good. We'll talk and then I can come back down here and put

on my own clothes and shoes to go home. Since we have an appointment

in the morning, he won't want to talk for more than a few minutes

anyway. Probably want to ask me if I'm all right, if I enjoyed myself,

and that sort of thing, before I leave.

Sonny is nowhere in sight. Probably in the darkroom with his

pictures.

I walk out the door and up the stairs, watching my stocking

covered legs peeking out from between the sides of the coat with each

step up. At the mirror outside his door, I can see the rise of my

breasts in the opening of the coat. I grin at myself before knocking

on the door.

I hear it click open and push it the rest of the way open to walk

into the apartment. "Come in," he says.

He's sitting on the same cushion of the same couch I sat on

earlier. But a footstool sits in front of the seat. Bill is wearing an

expensive maroon smoking jacket open at the neck onto his hairy upper

chest. Below it, he wears a silky pajama bottom and slippers. Looking

a lot like Hugh Hefner at home, he's smoking a sweet smelling

pipe. But I really only notice this out of the corner of my eye.

There is a 10 foot square screen covering most of the wall

opposite him with the video of my film debut showing on it. The image

of my naked breasts over the black material of my dress heave about 3

feet tall to compete with my face that is about 5 feet away. My

fingers pull my nipples on the screen and I cross my arms under them

over the softness of the fur. This is truly embarrassing.

As my fingers on the screen move down my body to my skirt and, in

a few moments, reveal my hard dick along with my leaping breasts and

panting mouth, I blush from nose to toes.

"What do you think?" he says softly. "Fantastic. Right?"

"Embarrassing," I answer.

"Why embarrassing?" he asks without looking at me. "You're

naturally one of the sexiest people I've ever seen. And you play to

the cameras so well, you could almost produce a finished film just

from editing the tapes together for the best camera angles. I could

have the sound over- dubbed in about six hours and sell this all over

the world.

"In fact," he says. "That's just about what I'm going to

do. Really, I intended it to be a titillating kind of amateur hour

with some effort. About like a home video. But just look at this!"

I watch my legs raise and spread just before my come sprays up

onto my face then in globs on my breasts and finally all over the

front of the black dress. Even in the folds of frilly material of the

skirt. I hadn't seen that or cleaned it.

After several minutes, the image finally goes black along with

most of the room. A single small table lamp is on to his right.

He picks up another tape from the table where the lamp is and

slides it into a player. After a short leader, I watch myself moving

onto the soft white bed in my sexy nightgown. Bill sips at a beer but

doesn't take his eyes off the huge projected image.

"Please, come sit down here beside me," he says. I move down into

the pit and sit down. Watching the screen from here, it fills your

forward vision completely. It's like sitting about four rows back in a

movie theater. I'll bet watching "2001" or one of those action films

on this is really something.

"Quite a setup," I say softly.

"Yes. Projection TV. The sound's every bit as good. Surround

sound. But, of course, we didn't have a mike on you. You'll have to do

the sound-overs another time." He's still staring at the screen that

shows me, bigger than life, rubbing my naked breasts and writhing

around.

The fur opens across my legs when I'm sitting down. I cross them

and shift a little to throw one side of the coat back over them. I'm

glad I wore the coat since the air conditioning must make it about 60

degrees in here. I sit back on the couch with my arms crossed and

watch.

Even knowing, pretty well, everything that is going to happen on

the screen, I'm finding myself getting excited by the action. The

camera occasionally zooms in and then back out but doesn't really

change angle very much. Then I drop out of the frame altogether before

the camera moves down to me rolling on the bed with my hand still in

my thin panties.

It's just a very sexy woman enjoying playing with herself

now. Very sexy. I realize that I'm doing that thing with the calf of

my upper leg again, rubbing it up and down on my other thigh. I wonder

where I learned that? The action makes the coat gap open again though

and I recross my legs away from Bill and recover them from the other

side.

"God, look at that!" he sighs. "You have me completely convinced

that you are finger fucking yourself right there. Just magnificent!"

I watch, smiling to myself. I watch the image roll over on her

front and her large breasts dangle with the gravitational pull. Then,

though this isn't the best angle for it, she puts her finger into her

ass and wiggles around on it. Her face shows nothing but wanton

ecstasy as she fucks herself in the ass with one and then two fingers.

I watch, chewing nervously on my lip and the tip of my finger, as

I watch her roll back over onto her back to finger fuck herself some

more. Her legs are sexily everywhere, pointing and vibrating as if

she's on the verge of an orgasm.

"Shit! Look at that!" he moans as the woman on the screen

suddenly reveals the hard cock in her hand and begins to move up it,

her polished nails touching the tip for a minute. I hear a sign from

behind me and turn around to see Sonny standing a few feet back with a

handful of pictures and a rapt look on his face as he watches the

screen.

"Ah! Yes!" Bill says, clapping his hands merrily as the woman on

the screen strokes the cock and it spurts huge gobs and strings of

come onto her stomach, her chest, and into her hair and face. She

licks a big glob off her lips and cheek before releasing the cock and

laying back, relaxed and spread-eagled on the bed.

He laughs uproariously as Sonny leaps onto the bed to suck up the

still hard cock and begins lapping up the come all over the beautiful

body. I smile watching it and with the memory of it as well. I turn

and look at Sonny and his eyes flicker down to mine as he blushes

vividly enough to be easily seen in the low light. He gulps roughly.

The tape ends after a few more minutes.

"Fantastic!" Bill says, finally turning to look at me. I'm still

blushing in embarrassment. His mouth goes slack for just a split

second before his eyes flick down across the coat to my legs and then

rapidly back to my face. "Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I've been ignoring

you for your video."

"That's all right," I mumble. Noticing my legs sticking out of

the coat again, I recover them.

"My God, what made you pick that fur? It's so hot tonight that I

turned on the air conditioner and stripped down to nothing."

"After the shower, it really feels pretty nice," I say. I cuddle

my shoulders into it now.

"Well, you ought to be warmed up by now. Particularly with that

movie. You can take it off now," he says flatly. I blush again and my

mouth drops open. I never thought of that. "Is something wrong?" he

asks as he sees my reaction.

"Oh, fuck!" Sonny says behind me. "She didn't put anything on

under it! Shit! I'll just bet!"

Bill looks at me again and blushes brightly himself.

I finally work up a little grin. "True," I say with a shrug.

"Sonny! My God, what have we got on our hands? Amy is easily the

most naturally sexy being I've ever seen or even heard of!" Now I'm

really blushing. "You didn't even think about that being sexy as hell,

did you?"

I nod. "Yes. I did. I wanted to feel the fur on the inside of it

against me. I thought that would be sexy."

"Sexy for you! You didn't even think about what it would do to a

man!" I hadn't. And at the time I was saying about the fur on the

inside feeling good, I'd rolled open the collar. As I followed his

eyes, I knew I'd screwed up again. Rolling the collar showed a great

deal of my left breast. I clutched it back to me.

"Oh, Sonny," he moans. "This is unbelievable. Next she's going to

want to talk business. Just like nothing ever happened."

I swallowed because that's what I had been about to do. I decided

whatever else, I wouldn't do that now.

"My mouth's dry, Bill," I squeak out. "Could I have a beer?"

"Jesus Christ! Where am I? Of course you can," he leaps up from

the couch. "Is there something else you'd prefer? A white wine?

Champagne? Anything?"

"No. Just a beer, thanks."

In seconds, he's back, handing me a tall Pilsner glass of

sparkling beer and moving back beside me on the couch. "Sonny. Come

here and sit down. Let's take a look at the stills."

For the next fifteen minutes, we form a tableau. Sonny and Bill

hover over the contact sheets with the now slightly raised light level

from some indirect sources around the room.

"Good! Yes," Bill says.

"I like this one and this," Sonny says.

"Yeah. And this."

I sip the beer and pick up the contact sheets as they lay them

between Bill and I on the couch. They are the best angles that could

have been shot from the videos I'd seen much of before. In the black

dress, there is a little hesitancy in the angles and the layout of the

photos. This disappears with the other outfit and after Sonny saw that

I am a man.

"Great. Great," Bill's saying. Sonny hovers close to him

discussing the angles and shots.

"The set cameras will have better angles of this shot."

"Yeah. We could never repeat this," he sighs. "Fantastic!"

My mind wanders off somewhere else as I sip at the beer and look

at the pictures. I'm only paying a little attention as they

finish. The beer glass is poised at my lips and my head bent back a

little to drink.

"Amy, these are ..." he almost screams near me. It takes me by

surprise and I bauble the glass. Cold beer pours down my chin and

splashes onto my naked chest. There's enough, though really only a

teaspoonful probably, that it channels down and flows between my

breasts.

Unthinking, I recover my hold of the glass, wipe my chin with my

palm and then chase the beer downward with my fingers as if to stop

it. The action serves to open the front of the coat. I realize what

I've done, as I hear both Sonny and Bill moan loudly.

I sheepishly look up at them with my hand holding one breast and

purposefully holding the coat away from the other. I noticed, before I

looked up at them, that my nipple is hard. Since that's where they are

both looking, I imagine it still is. I slowly cover up again and

blush.

Again Bill breaks into uproarious laughter, throwing his head

back and guffawing loudly. Sonny in a kind of titter, joins him in

laughing.

"Unbelievable," he says through his laughing sobs for

breath. "Unbelievable." Every time he looks at me for the next several

minutes, he laughs again and points down at my chest where I clutch

the coat. I can laugh with him, but I really don't think it's this

funny.

"I'm sorry," he finally says as he regains control and wipes the

tears out of his eyes. "It's just that you do these things so

easily. So automatically that you don't even see how sexy they are."

He leans toward me and puts his hand on my exposed knee. "If I

had written something like that into a script, there is no woman in

the world who could have acted the scene. But you could. You'd just do

it naturally. Hell, I could give you a beer any day of the week,

startle you, and you'd do something exactly like that every time."

"Yeah, probably true," I smile. "Am I just naive about being a

woman or what is it?"

"I don't know but you ought to bottle it. Whatever it is. It's

wonderful."

"Mostly embarrassing."

"Oh, don't let it be. Just, for God's sake, don't lose it or I'll

kill you."

Finally, he turns to Sonny, who's still shaking his head, and

tells him the pictures are great and to go home and get some sleep so

he can hit the blowups tomorrow morning. Sonny comes past me, leans

down, and kisses me on the cheek chastely.

"Good night, sweetheart. I'm just going to love working with

you." He walks toward the door. "How could I not? You're sexy,

stacked, and male. And you're probably going to make me famous if I

can't get you to make me preggers."

Bill laughs again before the door closes behind Sonny.

"Oh, my love. You've made my day. Hell, my month and probably my

year, for that matter. Hell, I'm going to make so much from these two

videos, that took all of about two hours to make, that you're going to

wish you had a percentage instead of a measly 100 grand. You could

have retired to your yacht on the proceeds at 10 percent."

"Well, maybe we could talk about my percentage for the domestic

sales," I say with a grin, leaning toward him, my elbows on my

knees. This time I know the top of the coat comes open before he grins

and stops trying not to look.

"Yeah," he says. "I think we'll have to do that. The negotiations

are going to be long and hard."

"Well I hope so," I giggle before he realizes just what he said

and blushes.

We laugh and talk together for quite a while as I finish my

beer. Then it's time to go home and get some sleep.

"Do you mind if I wear the coat home tonight and bring it back in

the morning for our appointment?"

"No. I mean, just the thought of you on the streets of the city

with nothing on but a fur, excites me more than you can believe. But

don't bring it back tomorrow. Another time you can wear it with the

same outfit under it. In any case, it's yours."

"Actually, you know I'm really not naked under the coat. I did

put on a pair of panties." I showed him and he went white.

"God. That's even worse. Lace panties and stockings."

Chapter 10

Linda WOKE ME for work and I can only lie here thinking about last

night. The pictures, the contracts, the fur coat, and, not least, my

reception at home. When I'd had time to think about what I'd

accomplished, during my drive home, I found that I'd never been so

excited in my life.

I thought about the money, though that wasn't all that

important. Then I thought about my reception by the two men of such

vastly different persuasions. I'd been able to excite an avowed

homosexual and a very virile heterosexual with almost the same

actions, even if different parts of those actions excited each. I'd

gotten what sounded like the most fantastic opportunity for myself I'd

ever gotten. A star of both some porn films -- something I'd always

thought I'd like to do -- and the documentary which would change my

body and, ultimately, my entire life.

Then there was the promise of the contracts for the

company. Bernice wouldn't believe it. And for me it was more

important to know that I'd tried hard to do something and I'd

succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.

Even the ride home had been tremendously satisfying. Stopped at a

stoplight, a city bus had pulled up next to me and the driver and

three rows of men behind him had gone insane looking at my legs,

showing through the opening of the coat. Only a few blocks further on,

two men in a pickup truck had done the same thing.

Linda had been mad at me when I got home, leaving in a sexy

outfit and coming back in a fur coat and panties. She was sure I'd

gotten laid, though I told her differently immediately, and was saying

things about having to restart my training because I was just doing

the same things again.

So I spent the next half hour telling her every second of what

happened to me during the night. I thought she might react negatively

to the surgery but she was enthusiastic about it instead. She was

really excited about the contracts and the money.

I took a few minutes to call Bernice and, finally, to tell her

that I would be in after my appointment with Barnes. She was ecstatic

about the contracts, of course, and promised to have the legal

department ready to review them as soon as I brought them in. She

started talking about staffing up for the projects before I hung up.

Maybe the best affect of the evening was when Linda started

rubbing the coat I still wore. Before we went to bed, she stripped

and together we rolled into the fur to make long, passionate love. I

didn't take it all the way off until we went to bed, still wearing the

stockings.

I get up rested and take a quick shower before putting on makeup

and looking for something to wear. Though it's pretty daring, I decide

to wear the blue crepe dress. I wear a blue pair of panties, the sheer

hip hugging pantyhose, and white shoes. The top doesn't allow a bra.

Linda is already ready for work in a short skirt and sweater

combination that is gorgeous. She likes the crepe on me, too. I drink

a cup of coffee while Linda eats breakfast and then we go our separate

ways, mine back to Barnes' building.

When I walk through the lobby to the guard station, the guard

smiles and actually straightens when he sees me. The same one as

yesterday morning.

"Good morning, miss," he says. "Mr. Barnes left word to send you

directly up to his apartment." Picking up a keyring from the desk, he

leads me to a locked elevator at the back of the elevator

corridor. There's only one button on the control panel. After I nod

and smile my thanks, I push the button.

The door opens onto a room I haven't seen before. Bill Barnes

smiles, raises from the chair behind a huge desk, and meets me in the

center of the large room. He takes both my hands and holds my arms out

straight from my body.

"You look marvelous," he says as he lets his eyes inspect me from

top to bottom. "Marvelous." He turns back to the room. "Welcome to my

inner sanctum." The wall behind the desk is entirely glass, as is the

wall to my right. I can see a balcony beyond the wall to the right.

The left wall is dark, rough wood covered with several obviously

expensive paintings. A black leather couch and three chairs are

arranged around a low coffee table near this wall.

He leads me toward the balcony, opens a sliding glass door, and

walks to a glass topped table with two white wrought iron chairs with

bright yellow and red cushions on them. He holds the chair for me and

makes a motion to someone behind me.

I young man in a white coat pours coffee for both of us before

moving away behind me.

"Are you ready for breakfast, Amy?" I smile and nod. He nods to

the man and in a few minutes, he's back with very hot plates of eggs,

hash brown potatoes, and silky light pancakes. We eat in silence until

I feel like I'm about to burst and sit back to look around myself.

It's a beautiful view from up here, the sky blue and clear this

morning. We're high enough over the city to be completely free of the

pollution though you can see the haze down and toward the horizon. The

tallest buildings of the city are behind this building, allowing an

almost unobstructed view out to the countryside in the distance.

The light breeze rustles my hair and the light, loose material of

my dress. When I look back at him, he's leaning on his crossed arms

and looking down through the glass top at my legs. I blush under his

scrutiny. He looks at my eyes and smiles broadly.

"It's going to be a long time before I forget last night," he

says. "I guess I'm still going through a kind of afterglow." I

chuckle. "But, --" he says finally, sliding his chair back and putting

his napkin on the table, "-- I guess we have some work to do. Let's

get to it, okay?"

"Yes," I agree. "It's so nice out here, I could spend the day."

"That's one of the disadvantages of having a beautiful place to

work." I smile and let him lead me back into the huge office and to

the leather couch.

As I sit down, I think that this is actually too comfortable. Its

soft, cool, skin-like surface shapes to the back of my legs as I cross

them. He pours us each cups of coffee from a silver carafe. The cups

are cheap plastic insulated cups. He sees that I notice.

"They're not particular fancy but they serve the purpose better

than china. They keep the coffee hot." I nod. Totally

practical. Certainly the coffee is hot, burning my tongue. "Ah, to

business," he sighs.

"I had the contracts prepared yesterday for your company. Here is

the publicized contract with the necessary modifications to include

all the company information services and to study the ties with the

outside." He sets the blue bound contract on the table between

us. "This is the contract for the more private services your company

is to provide for us. I hope it covers everything."

I scan it as I sip the hot coffee and see that it covers

everything I can think of. I nod.

"It actually covers some areas you're not familiar with yet but

I'll take you down to see them in a few minutes." Again I nod. "This

morning I left instructions for the other contracts -- the performance

contract for the documentary, the one for the other work during the

next six months, and a continuing contract for after your

surgery. We'll go down and pick them up in a bit. Of course, you'll

want to discuss these contracts with your attorney. I asked them to

ensure there is no requirement for your completing the surgery if that

is your choice."

"You seem to have taken care of everything."

He feigns a little discomfort and says, "I also had a contract

written up for the domestic sale of your videos. Forty percent of

net."

"We'll change that to fifty percent of net, of course," I say

with a smile. He laughs.

"You make your changes and we'll negotiate for a signature. But

since you already gave away the foreign rights, I can see you getting

your way with that." Then he smiles again and picks up another piece

of paper. "And this is yours now."

I look at it and see it is a company check for $100,000. I

sigh. That's a lot of money for one evening's work.

"The tapes have been turned over to the editors and writers. The

writers will write dialog for it that will allow synchronization with

your lip movements, though it won't be what we were really talking

about, of course. The editors will put the tapes together for the best

angles and that sort of thing. When they're done, we'll have another

choice. If you want, you can do the voice- overs from the script. Of

course, with approval on what you're saying. Or we can bring one of

the 9-7-6 operators up to do the voice-overs."

I must have a blank look on my face.

"The 9-7-6 operators do this sort of thing all the time for the

customers who call in to talk. You know, the hot chat lines you see

advertised in the magazines?" I do now and smile. "Are we okay so

far?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I just have one question." He nods. "How could

you have had the company's contracts prepared yesterday afternoon when

you and I hadn't even talked yet?"

"We hadn't talked," he says. "But I already knew I wanted your

company to do the work. Thanks to you."

"I still don't understand."

"Yesterday morning?" I nod. "I watched it all. Your tour, your

suggestions, everything."

"How did you do that?"

"Oh. This building is honeycombed with cameras. I can see

anyplace I want to."

"Really? That's a little disconcerting."

"Actually, it's a lot disconcerting. A tremendous invasion of

privacy." I smile.

"I guess I was really thinking something like that."

"I thought you might be. And you're right. My only defense is

that no one knows about it but the company that installed the

cameras. And I take great pains not to abuse the system."

"But you know which secretaries are giving their bosses blow jobs

and which bosses are sleeping on the job. Right?"

"True. But I never use what I learn against them. Instead, I wait

for the peoples' supervisors to bring me things they think are

problems. For instance, a few weeks ago I heard that one of the

assholes in finance was requiring his secretary to perform

... services for him. Sex discrimination. It was very easy for me to

confirm the situation.

"I want to tell you right now that this organization is no

democracy. What I say, happens. I had a talk with him and, by the

time we were finished, he offered his resignation. I accepted it.

Then I promoted his secretary to take his place. She had been doing

the vast majority of his work for a year anyway. Everyone was

happy. Well, with the exception of the asshole. He was just gone. And

maybe he won't do the same thing some place else."

"You're competent to decide when you are abusing your power?" I

ask.

"I think so. Since you're the only other person, besides the

owner of the company that installed the system, that knows about it,

you're appointed to tell me if that's true. I'll take your word for

it. Snoop around and find out what people think of my management

style. After all, that's within the purview of your contract. All

right?"

"If you want. But what if I find that you're not doing as well as

you think?"

"You'll tell me or you'll be in default to your contract."

"Fair enough."

"To return to what brought this topic up, I watched you and Phil

on your tour yesterday morning. Beginning to end."

"What about last night? After you went upstairs? Did you tune me

and Sonny in then?"

"Yes. I did. I was ... no, I am fascinated by you. You were very

sweet to Sonny and I appreciate it. You were also extremely sexy in

the shower."

"In the shower, too?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be a man if I hadn't done that, now would

I?" I can't help but laugh in spite of being a little peeved.

"I guess I should be flattered."

"Oh, yes. I'm rarely that interested in a woman. And I consider

you more woman than any I've met."

"I don't really qualify," I note.

"Womanhood apparently is a state of mind and not, necessarily, of

physiology." We laugh together then. He finishes his coffee and

stands. Holding out his hand to me he says, "C'mon. Let's go look at

my secrets and then we'll go down to legal for the rest of those

contracts."

"Before we go, could I see how you look at all those cameras?"

"Sure." He leads me to his desk and moves a section to the

side. A TV screen is angled under the glass of the desktop. Pushing

buttons on a large pushbutton panel, he looks into rooms and

offices. The panel is huge.

"How many cameras?" I ask.

"About twelve hundred."

"With a button for each?" He nods. "Does it strike you that a 10

button panel would serve the same purpose?"

"Ah, no. It hadn't. But, now that you mention it, it would,

wouldn't it?"

"I can arrange for it to be installed tomorrow." He just smiles.

"There's one down in my apartment, too. Replace them both."

"Right. And, with a logical order to the cameras, you could have

up and down arrow keys as well. Maybe put the whole system on the

computer so you could call up each camera by name, number, or from a

graphic."

"Do it." I grin at him.

"We'll need a new contract." He punches some of the buttons until

he sees a man in an office reading a legal magazine. He dials a number

on the telephone on the desk and we watch the man answer it on the

screen. He gives him the details of the contract and we watch as the

man pulls out a yellow legal pad and begins writing. He nods.

"It'll be ready in an hour or so. Grisham is really very good."

During the next hour, he leads me through floors of studios

similar to the one we used last night, sound studios, more offices

full of script writers and editors, through all parts of a video and

film editing shop that is about 20 years outdated. One floor houses a

second massive computer with banks of modems. This, too, is outdated

and inefficient.

Finally, we go onto the legal floor I am familiar with and

collect the contracts. They join the others in my briefcase.

He rides down to the lobby with me and out the front door onto

the sidewalk. He turns me toward him, his hands on my upper arms. Very

gently, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips.

"You are a very unusual woman," he says. "Since I'm a very

unusual man, we have to be friends." He hesitates. "At least friends."

"You are very unusual. And we are already friends."

"I'm glad. Now. Would you have dinner with me tonight?"

"If you'd like."

"Will Linda be mad?" I didn't know he even knew about Linda.

"No. She'll understand."

"And if you stay the night?" I only look at him, a smile forming

on my face. His doesn't change.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Bill. But if it did, she'd

understand."

"I hope she will," he says before he releases me. "Seven

o'clock?" I nod.

* * *

Bob Humphry is a friend as well as the chief attorney for the

company. It takes almost two hours with him to explain all the

contracts. He takes mine as well as the company's, insisting he'll do

them for nothing. Finally, I have to show him the check before he will

agree to do it for money.

For the next hour, I fill Bernice in on what's happened for the

last two days. All the details including my personal experiences that

are really her business only as a good friend. She's happy for my good

fortune and agrees with me that it really is good fortune.

Finally, we call the whole group into her office and fill them in

on the company's new contracts. I share all of my observations with

them, except for the camera system. I didn't even share that with

Bernice.

I went back to my office and called Sam Maxwell, my electronics

expert friend, and told him about the problem at Barnes' office. He

said he could take care of it in an afternoon. I told him to plan a

day for each of the panels. He agreed but thought it could be done

faster. He'd do both the panels and the computer connections.

I knew I could trust Sam because he'd done some covert things for

the company and me before.

And then I went home.

* * *

Again, I took time to tell Linda about everything that happened

during the day, including Bill's invitation for dinner and his

statement about staying the night. I told her I didn't think that was

likely but asked what her feelings were. She said it was all right but

that she wanted to know everything when I had time.

Again, I showered and did makeup and hair before slipping into

the red dress, red pantyhose (without any real need for panties), and

the red shoes. It was really something to be this encased in tight

material. It felt good and it looked good.

Linda nodded her approval of my clothes and kissed me on the way

out before I drove back to Barnes' building. The guard, the one from

the night before, just pointed to the elevators and smiled.

Again I am on the floor with the studio and walk up the long

flight of stairs to Bill's apartment. He greets me at the door with a

smile. He's wearing a different smoking jacket, this time with a

cravat, and expensive pants and shoes. He leads me past the seating

pit and into a formal dining room with a chandelier. The table has two

lighted candles on long candlesticks. He turns off the chandelier

before he sits down next to me on the end of the table.

The young man from this morning bows slightly to me as he sets

down martinis in front of each of us. Then he leaves the room.

Bill compliments me on my looks and the red dress then toasts our

association. As I drink that drink and another that appears almost by

magic, I tell him about the reactions at the office and their plans to

begin the project at the beginning of next week. I tell him they'll do

a creditable job even in the interim while they look for some more

good people to complete it. He agrees.

The young man comes back with salads, soups, and then a wonderful

sliced veal dish covered with a french wine and cream sauce full of

mushrooms. He serves wine with the dinner and it seems to accent it

perfectly. Dessert is a chocolate mousse so rich it makes your teeth

hurt.

I sit back, stuffed again, and enjoy the orangish flavor of the

Grand Marnier served afterwards.

"Wonderful, Bill," I sigh.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it. I'm glad you enjoyed it, too."

"What a beautiful two days, Bill," I say with a smile, putting my

hand on the back of his where it lays on the table. "Rich, famous,

successful ... happy. All because of you."

"And incredibly sexy," he says. He looks up and down my body, or

what he can see of it above the tabletop. His eyes devour my body and

I know that my hard nipples are pressing hard at the inside of the

tight red dress.

"Is that what will make it perfect for you, Bill? To have me?"

He nods once, looking at the table. "Maybe. But ..." he

stops. "While I know everything about you, you know nothing at all

about me."

"You can't think that my company is that silly," I say. "We know

a great deal about you."

"Really? I suppose you know some."

"Most, maybe. We know your approximate worth. We knew enough to

enquire about you more quiet business interests."

"Yes. But you really don't know anything about me personally, do

you?"

"We know you aren't married. Never have been. Where you went to

school. That you got your start from your father about 15 years ago

when he made you the head of finance. And that you replaced him when

he retired eight years ago."

"That's some of it. How many women have I had in the last year?"

"Ah. I don't know."

"No, I didn't think you would. The answer is none, by the way."

"None? With all your business interests? The films. Video. The

9-7-6 operators. Secretaries. Even debutantes around town."

"None."

"Why? It can't be that you haven't been approached."

"No, not that."

"I told you this morning that you are a very unusual

woman. Remember?"

"And you are a very unusual man. I remember."

"That's true. You don't realize how unusual."

"I'm confused. Please tell me what's on your mind, Bill. Please."

He takes a very deep breath. "Do you know what a hermaphrodite

is, Amy?"

"Yes. Someone with two sets of genitalia. Both a man and woman."

"Hermaphrodites are generally what the medical community call

unsuccessful at gender identification. They have poorly defined

genitalia. Usually, one is quite prominent with a vestige of the

other. In ancient times, when a hermaphrodite child was allowed to

live after birth, the problem was unresolvable. The person lived with

a penis and a partially formed vagina or vice versa. Generally they

were shunned or, in the case of ancient Rome, venerated as signs from

the Gods.

"In more modern times, hermaphrodites are surgically altered to

the predominant gender. The partially formed vagina is sewed up, for

instance. Or the partially formed penis is removed. There is only one

case when that isn't true. It is in what doctors sometimes call

undefined hermaphrodism. No one gender is dominant.

"Generally, an undefined hermaphrodite is allowed to wait until

after adolescence before anything is done and then the person's

psychologically preferred gender is retained and then surgery is used

to alter the physical situation."

I look at him, rapt. It's a strange topic for conversation, but

interesting at any rate. I have a nagging feeling I know why he's

talking about it.

"In all times, hermaphrodites have been considered bazaar freaks

and, in many times, even put in sideshows or institutions.

"Luckily," he says, looking closely at me for my reaction. "My

father was very rich."

"You're a hermaphrodite?" I'm surprised, of course, since he

looks so totally masculine. But it doesn't bother me

particularly. "Is that what you're getting at?"

"That's it."

"And it's a problem?"

"Of course. There's a lot of confusion in my hormones, for

instance. Mood changes and such. But these are mostly controlled by

drugs." Again he searches my face for reaction. But I really don't

feel any and he's not going to detect anything. "The worst problems

are the existence of a penis and a vagina in the same body." Now I

react, frowning.

"Why?"

"I don't know? Something, perhaps, that happens in the womb

during pregnancy. There are --"

"No, Bill," I stop him. "Not why does it happen. Why is it a

problem?"

"Amy!" he says, exasperated. "All I've got to do is show a woman

my chest, and she freaks out."

"Let me see," I say, reaching toward him. He nods and unties the

waist of the coat, untying the cravat. My hand goes to his chest as he

starts to open the smoking jacket. Then he opens it wide. He has small

but rather feminine breasts. And the breasts are surmounted by dark

areola and the buds of nipples. They are totally disconcerting with

that masculine face. When I touch a nipple he jumps.

"They're very sensitive."

"Mine, too," I say with a smile.

"You ought to see the rest," he says as he reties the smoking

jacket and sits back in his chair away from me and my probing fingers.

"Tell me about it."

"Okay. I've got a penis. Not particularly notable except maybe

that my father didn't believe in circumcision. Maybe a little smaller

than average. I don't have testicles or, of course, sperm since sperm

is produced by the testes. But I do produce semen.

"Instead of testicles, I have an almost perfectly formed

vagina. But I don't have ovaries either. My womb is poorly formed,

according to the doctors. Sort of a remnant. My penis is placed a

little higher than most men's, as if it started to become a normal

clitoris but changed its mind. And I have totally normal labia. My

bladder is set up normally for a man. My waist is proportionally

smaller than a man's usually is and my hips wider.

"I have hardly any leg hair and feminine knees. I've dressed as a

woman several times and passed very easily with just a wig. I don't

even have to do anything about my breasts. Many women have small

breasts. I just have to take care of my dick. Ah. Well, you

understand."

"Yeah, I have that problem, too. So, are you thinking of having

some type of surgery? Is that why you are so interested in me and my

problems?"

"I don't think so. I'm mostly ..." he hesitates, looking into my

eyes. "I mostly just love to see how well you handle your

sexuality. How excitingly female you are even though it is not your

birth gender."

"You like watching me."

"Yes. And I thought, maybe, you would understand me ..." Again he

stops and swallows roughly. "And that you wouldn't think I'm a freak

or a monster."

"Now, why in the fuck would anyone think that?" I ask,

incredulous. "You're a wonderful person. No one would even suspect

about your physical structure and if they did they'd more likely think

it interesting. If they were really interested in you, they could see

the fantastic possibilities."

"You lost me. Possibilities?"

"Of course. You're the only person I know who could flip a coin

to decide whether they were going to be on top or the bottom, if you

see what I mean." His spreading grin says he does.

"You are really incredible, you know that?"

"Of course," I say. "You've told me."

Chapter 11

"SO, NOW YOU have a problem," I say.

"A problem I don't know about?"

"No. If you're as perceptive as I think you are, you know all

about it. You may have even engineered the problem."

"I guess I don't understand," he says.

"I'll have to tell you then." I look him in the eye. "You've got

me so curious, I can't stand it."

"Curious? About me?"

"Damn," I say. "If you didn't know you'd create that, why did you

mention it?"

He blushes deeply and looks around as if for some

help. "Really. I was only ... well, maybe I was warning you that I'm

... different."

"I can't accept that," I say, knowing I'm putting him on the

spot. "I think you either wanted me interested or were being totally

ignorant."

"Ignorant!" he says, now incensed.

"Does that mean you weren't trying to get me interested?" He

thinks about it.

"Well, maybe there was an element of that. But no."

"Then there must have been an element of ignorance."

"Now wait --"

"You couldn't possibly sit there and look at me, after last

night, and think that I could be upset by your differences. I'm as

different as any person you're likely to meet anytime soon. Right?"

"No!" he insists. "You're not the least bit different! You're

wonderfully feminine and beautiful!"

"Bill!" I say strongly with a question in the exclamation. "I'm a

man! Remember?"

"Well, yes, but --"

"But nothing. I have nice tits and I think I dress pretty

well. But I'm still a man with tits." I look at him for recognition of

what I'm doing. "That's pretty different."

"Yeah, but it's not as different as someone like me."

"I don't know," I say purposefully. "But you really have me

interested." I'm smiling at his discomfort.

He's really thinking hard now. "You know, I guess it was a little

ignorant. Sort of pointing out your differentness by making a point of

mine. And I guess I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't owe me an apology. You owe me an explanation. And

I only know one way to get an adequate explanation."

"One way? I guess I don't understand." Again I smile at him and

lean closer.

"I've got to see for myself," I whisper.

"See? Oh! I see. Oh!" Now I can't help but laugh at him in his

embarrassment. I let him squirm for a minute before I put my hand on

the back of his. He stares at it like I'm going to bite him.

"Bill?" He looks up to meet my grin. "Are you going to show me

right here?"

"Good grief, Amy! No!"

"Ah. Then you're going to show me inside your office."

"No!"

"Where then?"

"I'm --"

"Don't even say you're not going to show me. Wrong!"

"Maybe sometime --" he begins.

"I'm curious now. I want to see now," I demand.

"But Amy --" he begins again.

"Huh uh," I shake my head vehemently. "Now. And here if you want

to. Or somewhere else. But now, for sure."

He sighs heavily, theatrically. Then, finally, his grin spreads

across his face. "Okay. I give up."

I lean close to him. "I can't believe you have better legs than I

do," I say while stretching one toward him. I can see in the twinkle

in his eyes as he stares at it that he's getting into this now.

"It's going to be close," he says. "But I think I have you

beat. Just a little."

"This I've got to see!" I grin.

"Okay," he says. "Let's go down to the apartment." He shakes his

head in disbelief. "I'll show you my legs."

He holds the chair for me and I follow him through the office and

down a stairway. At the bottom, he holds a door that opens into the

living room I was in last night. Then he leads down a hallway I didn't

see because of its location behind a concealing wall at the side of

the living room pit. Down the hallway, there is a bathroom then a pair

of very large bedrooms that, I can see, each have living areas,

private baths, and walk-in closets. Then he opens a large double door

at the end of the hallway onto the biggest bedroom I've ever seen. I

think it could only be done in an office building or maybe a warehouse

conversion or something like that.

There's another living room pit with still another

fireplace. Then a large table with two soft chairs. A normally large

room opens to one side of the entry door and, looking into it, I see

it has a makeup table at the end and huge closets to either side with

multiple doors. He guides me to a second large doorway, again with

double doors, which opens onto a bathroom that I could fit most of my

house in. There's some exercise equipment in one corner, a sauna, a

hot tub, a huge deep sculpted bathtub for two, a shower like the one

downstairs, and a pair of sinks along with the toilet and bidet. None

of the fixtures are crowded with any of the others.

Turning back into the main room, I can see the far wall is

completely filled with gauzy material covered windows looking over the

same view as the balcony upstairs. The bed is huge. Undoubtedly big

enough that a family of four could sleep in it without ever touching

in the night.

"My god! You sleep here alone?"

"Yeah," he says with a grin. "I can sleep over here or over

there, close to the edge or right in the middle. Whatever. I can toss

and turn all night without a single worry of falling out."

"The only thing you probably have trouble with is catching up to

the girl you're with," I say with a grin. Strangely, he reacts

entirely differently than I'd expected. He looks embarrassed but not

like a guy who's trying not to brag.

"That's an experience I've never had," he says to my amazement.

"What? No one has ever shared this bed with you?" He just shakes

his head.

"Actually, I've never shared any bed with someone," he says

softly.

"What!!!!" He's blushing all over. I can't believe it.

He just looks at his hands as I stare at him. "Then I think

you're overdue, Bill Barnes." I lift his hands and take him to the

bedside. With a little difficulty, I crawl up on the edge and pull him

onto it with me. "Every bed is better when you share it with someone."

I have a sudden thought. "Bill? Are you a virgin?"

"Well, no. Not legally."

"You mean ... what do you mean?"

"I mean, I broke my hymen when I was young. So I'm not a virgin."

"Have you ever been with anyone?" He shakes his head slowly and

turns scarlet.

I find that I'm grinning to myself so hard I can hardly stand

it. It's like a little kid's Christmas. I get to open the packages all

by myself and I'm first!

I reach out and begin unbuttoning his shirt and he looks into my

smiling eyes. I'm sure he sees it there. He just doesn't understand

why I'm so pleased. He blushes more with each open button until they

are all undone and I pull his shirt out of his pants. Very gently, I

push his shirt open by spreading my hands at his shoulders until only

his arms hold it up. He's steeling himself not to interfere though

this must be one of the most frightening things that's ever happened

to him. I let the shirt fall from his shoulders and down his arms

until he pulls it the rest of the way off his arms from behind his

back.

His shoulders are lightly sloped, more like a woman's than a

man's. I can close my eyes a little, not looking at his more masculine

face, and see only a woman's body from the chin to his very narrow

waist.

His breasts are small, probably no more than an A cup but nicely

shaped. The hardened nipples, the size of large peas, are surrounded

by that field of darker skin as big as my own. These are not at all

masculine but still quite small and delicate for a grown woman,

too. When I touch them with fingers and thumbs of each hand, he only

watches my fingers.

I let my hands lower down his sloping sides to a fairly small

waist. Not the smallest waist I've seen on a woman but easily the

smallest I've seen on a man. His stomach is very flat. There's not a

hair on chest or stomach though I can see quite a lot under his arms.

My hands go to his belt and he inhales raggedly though, at least,

he isn't moving away from me. I undo it, the clasp at the top of his

pants, and his zipper. When I push them off his girlish hips, I can

see he's wearing a pair of red nylon men's underwear with the hole in

the front and wider waistband. There is a very noticeable bulge in the

front.

He turns to one side to sit and pull his pants the rest of the

way off. I help with them when he gets them to his ankles and pull off

his socks at the same time.

"What do you think?" he says as he shows off one leg by lifting

it and pointing his toes.

"I agree," I say. "You do have better legs than I do." He

does. As a long time watcher of women's legs, I know they are amongst

the best shaped I've seen. Just enough soft flesh in the thighs. A

nice curve to the calf. Gorgeously tiny ankles. Pretty, dainty

feet. And not a hair anywhere.

Now his body looks very much like a young woman's wearing a man's

underwear. Only the bulge is out of place.

"You have nice breasts, too," I note for him. I think he's

getting into this a little now because he smiles and looks at them

rather than blushing and cringing away as he was at the

beginning. "Now I want to see the rest." He's back to blushing before

he smiles into my eyes and nods.

"Okay. Prepare yourself though. It's like nothing you've ever

seen before. I promise you."

When I reach to his sides and put my fingers in the waistband of

the underwear, he lifts himself enough for me to pull them down

behind. I carefully guide the front of the underwear down until I can

see some of his penis.

He's uncircumcised -- something I didn't expect -- but a

respectable size. Not the largest I've seen in that way but not the

smallest. Perhaps he's 5 or 6 inches long and about an inch

through. The pubic hair at the base and above it matches his blond

hair and is sparser than I would have expected. There's some other

things going on here that I will need to look at more closely but this

looks more or less like a teen boy.

I pull the underwear down to his knees and, his knees together,

he helps me get them the rest of the way off by bending them and

lifting his heels off the bed. I throw them over the side of the

bed. When I look back, he looks at me, very nervous indeed. His legs

are crossed at the knee, away from me. I can still see the tip of his

cock where the head is just peeking out of the surrounding loose skin,

a drop of white pre-cum on it. When I look at it with a smile, it

jumps on its own away from his stomach.

"Can I see now?" I ask him. "Please?"

"No one except my doctors have seen me there. You'll be the

first, Amy," he says in an almost pleading voice. Again I smile, I

hope reassuringly. I nod once.

He takes a very deep breath and uncrosses his legs. I move closer

to his side at thigh level, looking down at him now. I touch the

inside of his thigh and he keeps spreading his legs. Knowing I could

see better if I were between his legs, I lift onto my knees and step

over one leg, encouraging him to spread his further. And now I can see

him.

He has no testicles. Instead there is a congregation of loose

skin between his legs and under his hard cock. The loose skin, I see,

seems to surround his cock as if it were a very large clitoris. Spread

still further, the loose skin finally opens and I can see the puckered

opening of a vagina in the folds. There is copious amounts of fluid

seeping from it and sticking to the folds of skin, shining in the

light pubic hair.

I can't keep from putting my fingers on the loose folds of skin

to the sides of the little pucker and opening him wider. He spreads

further and I can see the pucker there open and, further between his

legs, the additional and tighter pucker of his ass. My index finger

finds the opening almost by itself. He stiffens as I push inward with

my polished fingernail until the red tip disappears. He rolls his

pelvis upward more as my finger continues to probe. Amazing!

"How complete is it?" I ask clinically.

"They say I don't have fallopian tubes or any eggs, of course,

but everything else is there. I don't have periods though."

"Can you feel my finger?"

"God yes!" His thigh muscles are vibrating slightly and when I

move my finger out and then further back in, he follows it with his

pelvis.

"When you come," I begin, "do you ejaculate?"

He only nods with his eyes closed. "Do you masturbate? Like beat

off or fuck yourself with something?"

"Yes. Both ways," he sighs. My other hand goes to his dick and

peels back the soft surrounding skin from the head. Its mushroom shape

comes free, coated in the pre-cum. I can't stand it any more. I lower

my mouth to that beautifully shaped little cunt and press my tongue

into him. He moans loudly and grabs both handfuls of bed covering. He

tastes wonderfully clean and sweet with no spicier flavor at all. I

lick his flavor from him and suck it up forcefully.

Then I replace my tongue with two fingers in the tight hole and

watch him squirm with the feelings. My mouth lowers now over that

slick cock until I feel the head go into my throat. I suck hard and

move all the way to the tip and back down to the base again, frigging

him with two fingers at the same time.

His entire center is going crazy and his breathing follows his

movements. I can feel his climax nearing, his pussy spasming with my

movements. Then suddenly I feel him coming deep in my mouth, trying to

swallow it as fast as it spurts into my throat. My entire hand is

slick with the come flowing out from between his legs. His entire body

seems to freeze in a vibrating climax.

Then, as it passes, his hands come to the sides of my face,

pulling me up his body to his mouth. I kiss him and let his tongue

find the remaining stickiness in my mouth from his climax. He kisses

me again and again, squeezing me tightly to him.

Finally, he relaxes and holds me back from him slightly.

"That was wonderful, Amy," he says. "The most wonderful thing

anyone ever did for me."

"I'm sure anyone would be willing. God, you're beautiful, Bill."

I mean it. As both a man and woman, he's beautiful.

"Thank you, Amy. But I don't think many people would agree. I'd

scare --"

"Don't be ridiculous!" I emphasize. "You're a beautiful man and a

beautiful woman. You'd be anyone's dream. You're like making love to a

young man or a young woman. That's what your body reminds me of. Sort

of a teen. I could name a dozen guys who would make love to you as a

lovely woman or as a boy, and a dozen women who would make love to you

thinking in the same ways."

"You really think so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't." Now I am laying here on

the bed next to him and he is sitting up slightly on one elbow looking

down at me. His eyes rove down my body and I have a feeling I know

what he's thinking. So am I. "Bill? Would you make love to me now?"

"Oh, yes, Amy!" he breathes. "Oh, yes!"

His hand goes to the zipper on my top and undoes it in a

motion. I help him pull it over my head and off. He spends a few

minutes playing with my nipples until they are as hard as his. My

fingers reciprocate. When his mouth covers my breast, sucking it up,

his hand goes to the zipper at my waist and, again, I help him get my

skirt off.

He rolls me on top of him and puts his hands in the sides of my

panties and pantyhose, pushing them to my knees before he can no

longer reach them. He turns me back onto my back and pushes them the

rest of the way off my feet. His hand rubs between my legs, holding my

hardness under his palm. He still sucks hard on my breast before he

releases it and looks into my glazed eyes.

"How do you want me to fuck you, Amy? As a man or as a woman?" I

grin at him at the ambiguity. I decide this isn't the time to make

fun.

"I want you to wrap your tight pussy around me and let me suck on

your nipples," I say. He smiles and nods.

"Now I'm really going to lose my virginity," he says. "And when

I'm finished doing it that way, I'm going to fuck you as a woman." I

only smile. He may be overestimating his stamina.

As he sinks onto my cock, arching his back over me to let his

hard nipple rub against my lips, he starts to pump on me. Now I'm not

sure he's overestimating. It feels like he could do this all day.

After two hours of variations, I'm sure I was wrong. He has the

stamina.

Chapter 12

WE MOVE TOGETHER to the big bathtub and, sitting side by side facing

each other, enjoy the powerful blasts of water from the Jacuzzi jets

until we feel truly clean. Then we dress, he in a clean pair of slacks

and shirt; me in still another dress from his huge closets -- this one

a light blue sweater dress that clings to every inch of my body from

shoulders to wrists to mid-thigh with a nice pass at waist and breasts

that shows everything to advantage.

I spend some time at his makeup table while he quickly combs his

wet hair. As I am finishing, I hear him call his secretary and, when I

go into the living room, he leads me up to his office. We sit on the

big leather couch, giggling at each other's slightest words like

teenagers. Everything is now a double entendre with sexual meanings

just for the two of us.

Sonny comes in with a huge pile of pictures and a second pile of

contact prints that, luckily, he has marked with the ones printed

already. I look at the 8 X 10's while Bill looks at the contacts with

a magnifying glass. I reject maybe 10 out of the 500 while Bill picks

another hundred for printing. They're absolutely beautiful photographs

that turn me on as badly as I was when I was making them in the first

place. And I thought I'd never be turned on again.

My only consolation is that both Sonny and Bill are sporting

considerable bulges in their pants as we get through them.

"Okay, Sonny," Bill says finally. Something besides his earlier

comments of "Oh God" and "Beautiful" and "Fantastic." "I want you and

some of the graphics people to pick out about 100 pictures from each

of the two separate shoots, okay? Then try some progressive display

groupings. All right?"

"Sure. No problem." He grins at me. "I get to spend the next two

days with you, baby. I'm going to love it." I'm flattered.

As Bill walks him to the door still talking, Sonny turns back

and, spur of the moment, says, "I got the greatest job around. Huh?" I

only smile back at him.

Bill makes a call to someone in his legal staff and we wait a few

minutes for him to arrive. When he walks into the office, he stops

for a moment and then comes the rest of the way to us with a big smile

on his face. Maxwell Tennenbaum is his name.

"Max, what do you think?" Bill says as he inspects the

contracts. The man hasn't taken his eyes off me since he walked into

the room.

"I think you are the most startling woman I've had the pleasure

to be around," he says, to my surprise. "I knew you would be when I

saw these contracts. But I'm still amazed."

"I don't understand," I say.

"Well, look. There's several million dollars worth of work in

these contracts. That, in itself, is quite an accomplishment." He's

gesturing with one hand in the air like a leaf in a windstorm as he

speaks. "But then I get to the contracts for your work here already --

the video release in foreign distribution and the photograph

release. The check for those is attached, by the way. Then I see the

largest contract I've ever seen offered to an individual for local

release of these same products.

"But that didn't do it. I was astounded. Yes. But not really

flabbergasted." He's shaking his head. "Now I get to the short term

contract for future photography and video work and the longer term

work after the six months. I say to myself that this has to be a

fantastic woman to get this kind of money, percentages actually, for

this work.

"Then, on the bottom of the stack is the contract for the

documentary of your sex reassignment surgery." He's looking at me

crazily almost. "I find out that one of the most successful bodies

doing modeling, of this kind, right now is going to change sex! A

gorgeous woman who's going to become a man and fulfill another

contract for work as a man! Unbelievable!"

"Oops, Max," Bill smiles. "You screwed up."

"What?" He looks crestfallen. "How? The terms too liberal? I

thought they were ... ."

"No, no. I've looked them over and they're exactly what I

dictated this morning."

"Then I don't understand," he says, looking from one of us to the

other.

"Amy's sex reassignment is FROM a man to a woman." He does about

a triple take, starting to say something, stopping, and then trying

again.

"You mean ...?" he chokes.

"I'm a man, Max," I say and watch him swallow once, look at my

chest, blanch, look at my face, at my legs, at my chest, blanch again,

and try to speak through a knot. "Do you have to see to believe?"

"No!" he sputters out. "Of course not! No! But ... Oh, you've

permanently shaken my faith in my own perceptions!"

"I know what you mean, Max," Bill says with a laugh. "She's

shaken mine as well."

After we talk him down again for a few minutes, Max leaves.

"I've got to take these contracts to the office for our lawyer to

look at, Bill."

"Sure. I know." He looks a little sad. "Ah, what do you have

planned for later?"

"This evening?" He nods.

"Just going home, I guess. Nothing special that I know of." He

brightens a little.

"What about I pick you up about seven. We'll paint the town."

"Well," I begin. "I feel a little bad about leaving Linda by

herself for two nights in a row."

"Oh! Well, we'll all go out. Would she like that?"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask, I guess." I stand up. "Do you

mind if I use your phone?"

"Of course not."

I call Linda at work and ask if she'd like to go out with us and

she enthusiastically agrees. "I've always wanted to go out with a

millionaire," she says. "Even if he's really going out with my

husband." I ask if seven is okay and she agrees. I tell her I love her

and she kisses the phone on her end.

"Yes," I tell Bill with a smile.

"Well, I've got things to do," he says. "For one thing, after

this morning, I need a long nap." We grin together with our shared

knowledge of each other before I put my arms around his neck and draw

him into a long, gentle kiss. His hands range up and down my sides and

back until he holds our midsections tightly together for a moment.

"Mmmmm," I moan as he breaks the kiss and pets the front of my

hair.

"Oh, you have to get out of here before I really get started

again," he pants. "I'd love to fuck you again right now."

"And I'd love for you to do it," I say. He holds me firmly away

from him, his hands on my waist.

"Maybe tomorrow," he gasps.

"Okay. It's a date," I say with a smile. He laughs out loud and I

love it. "See you at seven," I say as I leave.

* * *

I spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the company lawyer

and filling Bernice in on the results of my negotiations. Covered in

smiles, she started writing down the things she needed to do, starting

with beginning a search for several good people to help with the

work. As I left for home, she headed for our lawyer's office.

Vic, of course, whistled and made a big scene about my sweater

dress and the shapes of my nipples in the front of it. Then he

proceeded, as I walked by with a grinning wave, to give a loud

critical review of my butt and my legs. We both enjoyed it and,

seemingly, the girls in the secretarial pool loved it as they laughed.

After the short drive home, I pull into the driveway behind

Linda's car and walk to the front door. When I call out, she answers

from the bedroom. "Come here, you," she cries. "I need some help."

I follow the sound of her voice and find her at her closet going

through the bags of dress clothes.

"What the hell do you wear when a millionaire says your date is

full dress?" she says nervously, a loose lock of blond hair falling

over her forehead and left eye. I don't remember telling her that.

"Did Bill call?"

"'Bill', is it?" she says mockingly. "Yes, 'Bill' called and said

to dress up. That he is going to take us someplace special."

"God, I don't know, Linda! In the fashion magazines and stuff, it

ranges from ugly pants with sweaters up to $100,000 things with

sequins all over. Did he say where we were going?"

"Huh uh. He wouldn't say. Just to dress up. Shit! I can't wear

this thing." She was holding on to one of her old party dresses that

she might have gotten when she was in college. I knew she'd fit into

it but it was a little outdated. She looked almost funny running from

one dress to another in a panic, her naked breasts bouncing and her

french cut panties trying valiantly to hold her cute little bottom.

"Well, you take a quick shower and let me look for a

minute. There's got to be something."

"Yeah, okay. You look and I'll be right back." She ducks into the

bathroom. Suddenly she pops back out of the bathroom, looking me up

and down as if she hadn't noticed me at all before and I don't think

she had since I'd been home. "You're turning into a real alley cat,"

she finally says with a grin. "You leave here in one outfit and come

home in another. Twice in two days. I'm not sure I like the sweater

dress as well as the expensive fur you came home in last night."

I grin back at her now. As I shrug, hoping she isn't serious, the

doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," I say.

"You don't want me to answer the door in this outfit?" she says

as she shows off her nakedness.

I open the door to a delivery man with two large boxes in his

arms. "Delivery, miss," he says as he holds them out to me. "There's a

card there on top."

I push the door shut behind me as I carry the boxes to the

bedroom and lay them down on the bed. I pull out the card from where

it's tied to a ribbon around the boxes.

"Amy," it says.

"I thought even if you do have something particularly nice to

wear tonight, you might like to have something new. Played hell

getting both you and Linda's sizes but your boss, Bernice, knew right

away.

"Picked them out myself. Hope you like them.

"Bill."

The door of the bathroom opens to a cloud of steam and Linda

wrapped in a bath towel. "Who was it?" she asks.

"Delivery," I answer. "From Bill."

"Really? What is it?"

"I don't know. I haven't opened it."

"Well?" she says, exasperated. "Open it!"

"Yes, ma'am," I say as I pull the ribbon off the boxes and pull

off the lid of the top one. "Oh, Linda," I sigh, pulling the dress

out of the box. Shining black beads cover the soft material though, in

fact, there is very little of it.

"It's beautiful, Amy," she says, touching the beaded material. I

let her hold it as I turn to open the other box. When the top comes

off, I see a vision in white gauze. I pick it up and feel its soft

lightness. A small tag at the waist has my size on it. Moving to the

other dress in Linda's hands, I see that it is her size.

"I think he chose for us," I say. "You'll wear black and I'll

wear white."

"Oh, Amy. These have to be the prettiest dresses I've ever

seen. They must have cost a fortune."

"I guess now we know how you dress when you go out with a

millionaire."

"Yes. Any way he wants you to," she says with a laugh that I join

her in.

During the next few minutes, I put on sheer pantyhose and the

white dress with a pair of quite high, fine silver dress sandals. The

dress falls, like a Greek woman's toga, in folds of gauzy material

from shoulders to the crossing sides at a high waistline. Small

catches hold the material tightly in a wide waistband under my breasts

to my natural waist. Then other catches hold the outside fold of

material across. This creates a very solid uplifting and squeezing of

my breasts for a startling cleavage in the loose looking vee of the

top. The tight waistband shows from ribs to sculpted waist. The filmy

material then crosses my legs in front to a point near my ankles.

But a single step shows my leg to a point high above my knee. And

sitting down allows it to open to the split of my legs. I have to

actively tuck both leaves of the skirt between my legs, to keep from

showing myself.

I smile at Linda and see her in the black beaded dress. I gulp as

I do.

The dress, sparkling with its beads, hangs from straps at her

shoulders that are about an inch wide and widening until the outside

curves up from her hip at the waist and the inside drops between her

breasts in a straight line to the center of her waist. Her bellybutton

is centered in the lower part of the vee. The whole top seems to flow

past her waist to her hips and then down to her upper thighs where it

ends abruptly. If it fell to her knees, it would hold them so tightly

together, she couldn't walk.

She's wearing black pantyhose and the pair of black patent shoes

that are only toes of normal shoes and a very narrow band around her

ankle, perched on high, very thin spikes.

I sit down at the makeup table and start to do dark mascara,

shiny eye shadow, blush on cheekbones, and brilliant red lipstick

while Linda does her almost white hair in long, classical ringlets

that fall all around her face and down her bare back. Then we switch

and I tease my hair into a fog of dark, unruly waves while she puts on

her makeup -- blue eyeshadow to highlight her outstandingly blue eyes.

We both get small earrings and simple chain pendants that hang

between our breasts.

When the doorbell rings, I can't believe it's seven already but

it is. Bill comes in when I open the door and his eyes sparkle as he

looks at me.

"Bill," I say as Linda comes out of the bedroom, shutting the

light off behind her. "This is my wife, Linda."

"My god," he moans. "Both of you are so beautiful and so

different from the other."

He's wearing a black tux with a red bow tie and cummerbund over a

brilliantly white shirt. The studs and cufflinks in the shirt are

diamonds a quarter of an inch across.

"Thank you for the dress, Bill," Linda says as she gives him a

kiss on the cheek.

"Yes. And mine," I say quickly.

"Ah, but I'm the winner. I get to look at you wearing them and

have every man who sees us envy me." He stops and looks critically at

each of us. "But there's something missing. Ah, I know what it

is. Let's see here," he says as he pulls a velvet box out of his

pocket. Opening the box, there are four earrings. Each post contains a

diamond that must be at least two carets with three gold chains

hanging to smaller diamonds. We quickly put them in and show him how

they sparkle as they dangle from our ears. He kisses mine.

"And these," he says as he opens another box. This has two half

inch wide chokers of diamonds. One has a gold chain fastened at each

side with a half inch round pendant in the middle that holds a set of

six huge diamonds. The center front of the choker has one very large

diamond in it. The other choker has a single chain on which the

biggest diamond I've ever seen dangles. Probably a half inch around.

Linda takes the one with the two chains and I put on the other,

the large diamond hanging at the very top of my cleavage.

He's already opened the next velvet case that holds two bracelets

of the same design as the necklaces. We put them on as we try not to

get too excited, looking at each other in awe.

"And finally," he says, opening the last box. Again there are two

pieces that look like bracelets but only a single width of diamonds

wide with a single small dangling diamond in the same style as the

necklaces. "Ankle bracelets," he explains. He gives Linda hers and

kneels to put mine on for me.

"I've never felt so beautiful," Linda says with sparkling eyes

that match the multitudes of sparkles around her body.

"And I've never seen anyone so beautiful," he says. "I hope you

both like french food?"

"Yes!" I say, knowing the only place he could possibly take us in

town.

"I also hope you aren't absolutely ravenous. It may take a little

while till dinner." Without explanation, he leads us out of the door,

pocketing our key for me, and guides us into the black limousine

waiting at the curb. As the car moves smoothly away, he says,

"Martinis?"

We nod and smile from either side of him. He leans forward and

opens a small panel between the back facing seats to remove a tall,

thin pitcher of clear, cold liquid. He pours into long fluted glasses

as we hold them for him.

"To an adventure in living," he says as he raises his glass. We

drink together and talk for a while, thanking him for everything and

enjoying the soft ride into the darkness. Then we turn into a lighted

area and I can see through the front window there's a Lear Jet sitting

in front of us. The driver opens the door for us to get out and a

steward in a tux meets us at the door of the Lear.

"I thought we'd be comfortable in the small plane tonight," he

says as the door is fastened and the plane moves off. We sit in a

smallish area that looks like someone's living room with gentle light,

three soft swivel chairs, and two cocktail tables. The steward brings

another pitcher of martinis. I can see the lights of the city falling

away from us as the plane rises into the air.

"It crossed my mind that we could go to Paris tonight. Real

french food, you know. But then I didn't really think our stomachs

could hold out that long. We should be there in about an hour and --"

he stops, holding his glass in another toast, "-- until then we can

get our appetites ready."

The steward saves my life by setting a small tray of chips, dip,

cheese, salami, caviar, and other goodies on the cocktail table. I

start munching and drinking. It is wonderful.

It seems only minutes before the plane touches down and the

driver is again handing us into the interior of another

limousine. Twenty minutes later, and another martini, we are in front

of one of the most famous skyscrapers in America. A minute later, we

are in the most expensive restaurant I know of in the country, being

treated like royalty and looked at by everyone in the place. I know

absolutely that I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Linda and I are the most beautiful women in the place and Bill

the most handsome man. God, it's wonderful. Then the food service

begins and we eat seven full courses of the most wonderful food known

to mankind, each one better than the last until we finally find it

almost impossible to stuff bites of rich crepes suzettes into our

mouths. The dress feels very tight around my waist now.

The trip reverses itself now with coffee and Franjelica, coffee

and very old brandy, coffee and ouzo. But as we head toward our house,

I ask Bill if he'd take us to his apartment. "I really want Linda to

see your home," I plead.

"Okay," he says. "On one condition."

"What's that?" I ask.

"That I can show Linda our videos. Agreed?"

"Is that what you were doing last night?" Linda asks. I nod. "Did

you get paid well for it?"

"Oh, I haven't shown you the check yet. $100,000. Is that good

enough?"

"God! What did you do?"

"I think you'll see," I grin. "But --" I begin as I look deep

into Bill's eyes, "-- I think I would have done it for nothing."

That visibly pleases him.

"Or," I say. "I would have done it for the experience I had this

morning."

Linda doesn't miss much. She immediately jumps on that

statement. "What experience this morning?"

"I think --" I begin, "-- you're going to have to see it to

believe it." This makes Bill squirm in his leather upholstered seat

between us.

"Okay, Bill. Lead us to your videos," I say. He grins and picks

up a telephone and talks to the driver.

Chapter 13

Linda IS PROPERLY impressed by Bill's fabulous apartment. As he did

with me, he gives her a guided tour of the entire place before we sit

down. As it was for me, the bedroom impresses her the most.

After he gets us each a drink, he pushes the tape into the

player. We watch in silence as I move into the frame of the camera in

my black dress. I'm cuddling into Bill's side as he narrates the

silent film, explaining how we are going to put sound to it in the

next few days. The only business I'd ever heard him discuss he said by

the end of next week, he'd be selling copies of this video for $49.95

each in Scandinavia, France and Germany and after two weeks he will

have earned back the $100,000 he'd paid me.

I watched Linda squirm as she watched the sensual tape unfold

until I was spurting my come onto my dress on the big screen.

"Damn, that's sexy," she moans. I like to watch her when she's

this turned on. Her whole body seems to squirm with it in little

ways. She squeezes her legs together and releases, she twists her

ankle, her hand clasps and unclasps, she licks her lips, she even

tweaks her nipples through the material of the beaded dress. As I come

on the screen, I see her squeeze her legs more tightly together,

lifting her knee to rub them together. She's breathing hard as Bill

slides the other tape into the machine and we watch the same sorts of

things again, starting in that filmy nightgown. This time when my

image on the screen comes, she moans loudly. I wonder if she came,

too, just then but I'm not sure.

"So, what do you think, Linda?" Bill says. "Was it worth

$100,000?"

"God! It was almost worth that to me!" I grin, embarrassed. "Who

taught you to be that sexy, Amy?"

"You know exactly who taught me," I say. "She's a great teacher,

don't you think?" I ask Bill.

"I'd say."

We just sat for a minute. Linda was obviously trying to get

herself under control again. I was trying to overcome my

embarrassment. Bill was just enjoying the two of us in our discomfort.

We finished our drinks in silence.

"Like to watch something different?" Bill says finally. I know

what I want to watch and it isn't on the VCR. Linda starts to say

something but I interrupt her.

"Yes!" I say. "I know exactly what I want to see." I stand up and

take Bill by one hand and Linda with the other and lift them to their

feet. I lead them straight to Bill's huge bed and though both of them

seem reticent, I force them onto it. Linda gets into it enough to help

me press Bill down onto his back near the middle. I speak to

Linda. "Now you're going to see the most fantastically wonderful body

you've ever seen. Are you ready?" She looks at me sort of strangely

but nods.

I point her toward his shoes while I get him back sitting up and

take his coat off. Linda's got his shoes and socks off now. I undo the

cummerbund and the bow tie before pushing him back onto his

back. Linda, ready now, unfastens his pants and pulls them down and

off to reveal underwear that I see match the cummerbund and tie.

Looking into his eyes and sharing our secret, about to be

revealed, we grin. Then I start undoing the diamond studs down his

front.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask Linda. She just looks

perplexed. Not understanding. I open his shirt with both my hands

running down his chest until my hands rest on his breasts. Looking at

Linda, I move my hands enough for her to see.

She's already seen the bulge in his pants and now she sees his

small breasts, tipped with very hard nipples. She does about a triple

take before looking at me with real confusion in her eyes. Bill's

being unusually patient, I think, as I move to his side and start

pulling down his underwear. Now, she seems surprised when his hard

cock is revealed and does another triple take.

"Now, look at this," I say with a big smile. I pull his underwear

the rest of the way off, letting him get away with covering himself a

little by lifting the leg nearest Linda. But when the underwear are

off, I force his legs apart.

"Amy?" he says as I finally get him spread as far as I want

him. He's both embarrassed and a little frightened of her reaction.

"Oh, my god!" Linda says. "He's both!" Then she looks at

Bill. "You're both sexes!"

"I know," he says with a still embarrassed grin.

"And he can do amazing things with both sets of organs," I say

huskily.

"Really?" she sighs. "Then, what are we waiting for." She grins

suggestively as she reaches behind her back and undoes the zipper of

her dress. She shrugs it off her shoulders and catches the waistband

of her pantyhose as she strips it off her hips with a sexy little

squirm that makes her breasts bound wildly.

As I do the same, she grabs two pillows from the top of the bed

and makes Bill raise up his middle until she can slide them under

him. Now his spread legs are a foot off the bed and his back bent

unnaturally. Linda dives between his legs and pushes her tongue deep

into him as her hand wraps around his dick. He moans.

"What's left for me?" I protest.

"Are those nipples sensitive?" she mumbles quickly. I grin at him

and lay down beside him to suck the left one.

"Every man's dream come true," he says as he starts to squirm

under Linda's ministrations. From experience, I can tell he's about

to come. Linda has sensed it too and stops tonguing him. Instead, on

her knees between his spread legs, she brushes her hair out of her

eyes and plunges her mouth over his cock until it is completely

buried.

"You said it really works, right?" she says then as she sits up

to look at us. Bill's eyes are crossed with his near climax as I nod

vigorously. She almost stands up and moves around until her cute

little ass is facing us, her legs on either side of his hips. Then she

lowers herself onto his cock with a satisfied moan.

As I continue to suck on his nipples, both Bill and I reach for

her cute butt, his thumb finding her asshole before mine does. As if

in retaliation, she looks over her shoulder and puts some fingers in

his cunt. Now he can't stand it and comes deep inside my wife, his

entire body tensing into a tight spasm.

I can't stand it and, while he's still settling from it, I work

Linda around a little and roll both of them onto their sides on the

bed. From behind, my cock goes into his wet, hot, very lubricated

hole.

"God!" Linda cries. "It's like your cock went straight up the

inside of his, it's so hard again already!"

"Bill," I moan, "I'm going to let you do us both. Just do what

feels natural." I pull out now until I'm just hovering at his opening

and he's beginning to moan at the deprivation.

"Oh, I'm losing you! No. Ah," he says through clenched teeth. He

pulls back onto my cock a ways. "Oh, please, Amy. I'm not as long as

you. I'm about to fall out of Linda. Please!" he signs. "Oh, god,

yes," he moans as I meet his behind completely as he tries to hold at

Linda's portal in spite of her continuous squirming to get him back

into her.

"Oh, fuck," she says softly. "This is awful! Oh!" I feel him

plunge away from me and into her to his furthest extent and she moans

with satisfaction as does he. I can feel him vibrate with his feeling

inside her. I put my hand around his body to take his nipples in my

fingers to squeeze. My mouth goes to the back of his soft neck. I can

feel that he's doing the same to Linda at the same time as if he's

passing on the feelings. She moans and squirms for herself and for

Bill. When he pulls her close to his front, it crushes my hands into

his breasts roughly.

Now he sets us a regular pace with his body moving between the

two of us -- stroking me behind and her in front. I can feel his

straining inside her and, at the same time, squeezing me

tightly. "Mmmmm. That feels so wonderful," I moan into his neck. It's

what sets him off. Suddenly, his center is raging between the two of

us until he loses control and makes a strangled scream.

I see that Linda is doing the same thing in front of him,

clutching and curling and straining in her climax. And my own comes

on. I fill him full of my come in a half dozen blinding, deep strokes

that match and exceed his. Linda's spread upper leg comes around his

and holds both of us to her by pulling my knee into the back of his

leg.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," Linda screams then to our enjoyment. My

hand goes to her clit for that final coup de grace and finds the back

of Bill's already there. I help in her final extremes as Bill climaxes

powerfully between the two of us. I know he is filling her even as I

feel his come finding exit around my cock as he spasms.

Our bodies settle until there is no sound in the room but our

intermingled heavy breathing.

"That was ..." Bill begins.

"Fantastic," Linda finishes. We all hug each other together, her

hands and arms holding ours to her fantastic body.

During the next hours, we found many new and exciting experiences

before we finally fell asleep locked together, Bill in me, me between

Linda's spread legs, our breasts rubbing together.

"This is heaven," Bill sighed into my warm dream.

* * *

I woke up in the darkest part of the night, too warm, and moved

out from between the others' legs. Making my way to the bathroom, I

emptied my bladder and when I got back, found my spot had disappeared

as Linda rolled toward Bill and Bill rolled onto her side slightly,

his leg crossing over hers from behind. I lay down on the other side

of Linda and copied the position to fall back to sleep.

When I wake again, Linda is chewing on my lower lip, her leg over

mine. As I open my eyes a crack, I see the smile in her eyes before

she looks at me and stops the chewing.

"He's wonderful, Amy," she whispers.

"I know. That's how we spent this morning."

"I thought so," she laughs. "I have some catching up to do, I

think." She hoists herself over me and guides my newly hardened member

between her legs, sitting up on her knees over me so her breasts

dangle down toward me. By pressing upward until my back almost hurts,

I can get her high enough so I can suck on her nipples.

"Umm. Look at this," Bill says from beside us. I switch to

Linda's other nipple and Bill slips up close to her so he can take the

one I just left. I feel her almost lift off me as he begins playing

with her ass.

"Yes!" she hisses. "Oh, put your finger in me, too." Then she

stiffens as he does it. For a long time, she squirms and rolls her

center as he fingers her ass and I continue stroking into her cunt.

Then he leaves her nipple and I feel him lowering down her body

until, once again, she stiffens and looks over her shoulder at

him. Since his knees are between my calves, I know he is tonguing her

ass down to my pistoning cock. I can feel him licking it on the

outward strokes as well.

"Oh, shit," she moans loudly. "Yes! Yes! Ahhh, yes. In my

ass. Yes!" She's pumping powerfully on me now, almost ripping her

nipple out of my mouth. I see Bill's head at her shoulder as he's

moved up her body. "Oh, both! Yessss! Ahhhh! God!" she cries. I can

feel his dick through the thin layer of flesh between her two holes as

he plunges into it. We purposely work against each other's thrusts

until she climaxes magnificently, trying to free herself or impale

herself further. I can't be sure. Before one climax has finished, she

climaxes again and then again.

My come pours into her as Bill clenches and pours into her

ass. As we all settle, I can feel everyone stirring the same way I am

with the stickiness of night sweat and sex.

"I've got to get a shower," Linda says blearily.

"Me, too," I say from the bottom of the stack with my breath

coming a little hard under the weight.

"I get to soap up two pairs of breasts," Bill giggles from the

top.

"So do I," I say.

"Me, too," Linda says as we start to unpile and move to the

shower. An hour later and with gentle attention from Linda to both our

tired dicks, we work together and dry her entire body thoroughly. So

thoroughly, actually, that she has two more orgasms without either of

us touching her directly.

"It's Saturday. No work today. What shall we do instead?"

"Let's see," Linda says, looking at the clock. "It's 1

o'clock. Let's find some breakfast and go shopping."

"Great," I agree.

"I'll bring the money." He's reaching for a pair of the ugly

men's underwear. I look at Linda and she smiles back at me.

"Nope. We're ALL going shopping. For skirts and blouses and

dresses and high heeled shoes."

Bill blanched. "I've dressed as a woman before, of course," he

said. "But I'm not pretty or even good looking. It embarrasses me."

"Oh, no," I add to the discussion. "You've got the most beautiful

legs of any of us. And you can wear all the high fashion stuff that we

have too much tit to wear."

"But ... my dick," he mumbles.

"I've got more of that, too. And I do just fine."

"Yes, Amy. But you've got such a beautiful face and hair and, I

don't know. You're just very feminine. I'm not."

"Then I guess we're going to have to help you get beautiful,"

Linda says with a grin. "Besides. I think you could be very pretty

with a little makeup and the right hairstyle. And we can fix that,

right, Amy?" I both nod and smile at them.

"Now. Do you have a bra with a little padding?" He nods. I think

he's getting into it as he moves tentatively to his drawers of

underwear. Linda goes to his closet, bulging with beautiful women's

clothing.

Chapter 14

THE MODERATELY PADDED bra gives Bill a little bosom but only a

little. I help him tuck in, in the tiny panties we choose for him. He

doesn't even have to shave his legs for them to look wonderful in the

thigh high nylons. Right away, Linda gets him into a pair of high

white pumps that, for a while, he struggles in before seeming to come

to some accommodation.

His legs and butt look great when he's wearing the pumps and I

enjoy that.

Linda picks out a cute white teeshirt material skirt while I pick

out a white silk body suit top. The 3/4 sleeves end in frills as does

the open neckline. In the combination, he looks very fashionable as

well as cute as hell.

We make him participate in putting on makeup and doing his short

hair. But when we're all done, he looks like a pixyish young blond

girl that could stride the runways in any fashion house in the

world. A couple of bracelets, a necklace that hangs outside the frills

down his front and onto his bosom, and long, dangly earrings complete

his outfit. Only a little coaxing and a couple of threats get him to

raise the register of his voice enough to be more than believable.

By way of final touches, I get him to stop walking like a

construction worker, putting one foot directly in front of the other

instead, and watch his actions start to match as he really tries.

He's still deathly afraid but I, of all people, tell him not to

worry. Maybe I know how.

"Wait until you watch the guy at the shoe store look up your

skirt and get a hard-on. Then you'll be convinced." I know he will be,

too. That's the one that really convinced me. That and a very

convincing wife.

He sits close to us as we go through our motions of making

ourselves beautiful as well. We try to pick things that are similarly

casual and fun. Linda ends up in a yellow jumpsuit with the top

unzipped indecently far. I end up in a dress with a short, flared

skirt and a wide open top that almost but not quite shows my tits. No

bra.

"So, where to?" he asks.

"Pinehills," Linda says. I know of the up-scale mall and

smile. We explain to Bill and he agrees reluctantly. We haven't really

convinced him to go out with us, let alone to so public a place. But

he's being a good sport. "Bring your gold card," she grins and he

panics. He can't sign with his own name when he looks like a woman. No

one would accept it. Though we assure him most wives use their

husbands' card, he won't go along. I pull mine out and Linda does as

well.

"Okay," I say looking at my watch. "It's 5 o'clock now. We ought

to have about four hours to shop. Let's go!"

He calls down to his secretary as Bill Barnes and tells him three

women will be coming down to the limo and that the driver is to take

them anywhere they want to go for the night. He adds that he'll be

unavailable.

In fifteen minutes, we're walking into Pinehills Mall. Yuppie

paradise. We walk Bill straight to the shoe store, just as we said we

would. He enjoys himself so thoroughly, at the expense of the clerk,

that we end up with about five pairs of shoes apiece.

We lead him to Little Lingerie where we stock up on underthings

and nighties that he keeps telling us are so fantastic, he's not going

to be able to sleep even if he's wearing them. Then we head for the

big dress stores and, a dozen outfits apiece later, leave. We keep

sending storekeepers to the limo and wonder if it's filled up yet.

While Linda is trying on a little silver dress with tassels all

along the very very VERY short skirt, we meet Norman and Walt. They

challenge us as they stand looking at Linda modeling the dress for us.

"I'll buy anything I pick out that you'll wear with nothing but

pantyhose and shoes," Norman says first. He has a wonderful smile that

limits the effect of his intimidating body. He has to be 6-4 and

probably 220. Walt is his equal though, with the copious black hair

flowing out of his open shirt, and a 5 o'clock shadow, he looks more

intimidating in the process. Only his smile moderates his general

look. And if the two weren't wearing expensive suits over the equally

expensive shirts, ties pulled down from their thick necks, you'd think

they were construction workers.

After a bit of conversation, dominated by Linda of course, we

learn that they aren't construction workers but were at one time,

working up through the ranks into management of a construction

company. Now they're co-owners and Bill, at least, has heard of their

company.

It really surprises me when Bill is the one who answers the

men. "It's a deal! You'll buy anything we wear with just pantyhose and

shoes. Right?"

"Right," they answer together.

"Then start picking some clothes out," Bill says with a

grin. He's really getting into this now. I'm just hoping that he

hasn't forgotten that he and I have some limitations on what we can

wear.

With a broad grin at each other, they wade into the stacks of

clothes. The sales girls are really enjoying this. They can see

profits coming.

The first things they come up with are three blouses that you can

easily see right through. Breast men. Good, I sigh. Bill's not so

happy. But we do it, coming out of the dressing room a few minutes

later in our own skirts -- Linda in one she was looking at earlier --

and the blouses. Looking at Linda and Bill, I know everyone can see

everything I've got as well. I rub Bill's nipples with my wet fingers

before he tucks in the tails of the blouse and his hard little nubs

press against the inside of the blouse as we model them.

"Damn," Walt says when he sees Bill. "What a cute little boy

shape you've got."

"But these two sure as hell don't have boy shapes."

"I like this, though," Walt says as he pecks Bill on the cheek.

Three dresses, obviously meant to be worn over slips and made of

the same type of material, are next on the guys' list. The combination

of tucking very carefully, the pantyhose, and the dress material is

just enough to keep from giving away our secrets. The two men howl in

response to our reappearance in the

dresses. Applause. Laughter. Surprise at our willingness to do

it. They love it and, I see by looking at Bill and Linda, so do we.

Next they pick the tightest skirts I think I've ever seen. A

short leather one, a black spandex one, and a lightweight springy one

with a little longer skirt. Linda takes the short leather one and I

get the lightweight springy one. Maybe they're ass men. It's amazing

how these tight skirts cup up under your ass and shape to your

tummy. I don't think anybody could sit in one.

Again the guys are appreciative of our style show for them. Bill

and I make sure we stay away from their grasping fingers but Linda

gets caught momentarily for a quick feel.

"Damn," she says in the dressing room. "I wonder if these guys

are as well proportioned between the legs as everywhere else."

"What an interesting idea," Bill says with a grin. It surprises

me a little after his reticence to even go out with us in the first

place.

"Don't get us into something I can't get myself out of," I

say. "I'm the only one of us who's likely to be a major

disappointment."

We put on the little dresses they picked out that are little more

than bikinis with some intervening material to form some sort of skirt

and middle. Actually, the one I'm forced to wear because of the more

considerable skirt part, only has a pair of postage stamp-sized pieces

of material to cover my nipples. Though it really doesn't look

particularly good with pantyhose, that was the deal and I'm happy

because the skirt is short enough I think I might hang out below it if

I didn't have them on.

The guys are a little disappointed by the pantyhose but Linda's

lack of them under her outfit, that's about like mine at both the top

and bottom, seems to mollify them somewhat. I hear the squish as

Norman grabs her and puts his hand between her legs. Finally he lets

her go and she looks a little reluctant to end the solid kiss he

placed on her mouth as he fingered her. Or many fingers, I'm not

sure. God, she looks hot in that outfit but she might as well have

nothing at all on.

"Tell you what," Walt states. "If you'll wear the next things we

pick out, we'll take you to dinner at Dellacrou. It's probably the

best Italian restaurant in the state. What do you say?"

"Let's see the clothes, first," Bill says intelligently.

"Fair enough." He turns to Norman and they wade into the stacks

of clothes. "This is yours, baby," he says to Linda. It's a black

dress that includes a buckled collar from which the dress hangs, the

top spreading from a two-inch connection to the collar to a short

skirt that, when she holds it in front of her, I can see is just

barely long enough. There is only about a three-inch strip of material

at the back of the skirt and I'm interested to see how that works when

it's on.

The one they hand Bill is white filmy material at the top to a

long skirt. The skirt splits to the waist in the front. Bill blushes

but nods. Mine is brilliant red with tiny strings to tie around the

neck and a low front. No back at all. The skirt is long but, like

Bill's, slit to the waist. This time on the side. I nod and we all

move to the dressing room.

It's fun in the dressing room. My dress actually has a sort of

loose waistline that is enforced a little by the string tie around the

back of my neck. The open back perches on the shelf of my ass just

above my pantyhose. The front sort of filmily covers my breasts, the

sides of them allowed to show by the cut of the material. When I sit,

it's possible to cover my legs and keep the material there even with

the slit up the side. It is neat when I walk though, opening on one

leg clear up to my hip.

Bill's is filmy pretty and accents his white skin and blond

hair. His little breasts aren't highlighted but, instead, the front

slit lets his gorgeous legs peak out with each step, the material

swirling around them and even to the sides. He readjusts himself

because he's more likely to be discovered with it between his legs

than up the crease of one leg.

Linda's black dress is outrageous. She can step into it because

there really isn't a waist but, when the little collar around her neck

is fastened, the material drops just across the outsides of her

nipples, around her ribcage, and, still lowering, to the top of the

crack of her ass, actually letting it show slightly when you look down

as you would normally when you stand behind her. There's only about 12

inches of material below the back waist and that sculpts up in front

until it just covers her when looked at at skirt level. And there's no

way she can wear the pantyhose with this cause it would show in back.

"Whoa!" Walt says when he sees us. "Look at this!"

"Fantastic!" Norman says.

"I can't wear pantyhose with this," Linda says. "So I'll need to

get a pair of panties so I don't gross anyone out."

"No, no," Walt says loudly. "That wasn't the deal. Pantyhose or

nothing." Our salesgirl is blushing brightly.

"But --" Linda begins, holding the skirt to the front of her

thighs and looking down.

"Oh, no," Norman says. "It was your choice not to wear

pantyhose. And that was the deal." She shrugs.

"I guess you're the ones who'll be embarrassed if I show off

everything to every guy in the place."

"We'll suffer," Norman says.

"It's dark anyway," Walt seconds.

He looks around, picking up the packages around them. "Have

everything? We already paid the lady." We'd already put our street

clothes out here earlier and didn't see them so agreed.

We see that we shopped 'till 8 o'clock and now the majority of

the people in the expensive mall are little rich kids on the way to

the movie theater or arcade by way of the broad central walk, or

adults on their way to dinner. They seem to be dressed much as we are

though not as provocatively.

Bill noticed the driver near the door and handed him the packages

and told him where we'd be. The men offered their arms. Linda and I

took Norman's while Bill walked with Walt. I enjoyed watching the way

Bill's bottom waggled in the high heels and the way the teenagers, of

both sexes, giggled, ogled, and outright stared at us before we

entered the quiet restaurant.

The tuxedoed man at the door leads us to a large, horseshoe

booth. Linda sits in the center next to both men while Bill sits next

to Walt across from me and Norman.

"This has been great," Norman says. "I haven't enjoyed anything

as much in years."

"It has something to do with our fantastic models," Walt says.

"I don't know about Linda and, ah, Bea, but I sure enjoyed it," I

say. "We got some nice things, too."

"I think I'd wear more under them in other circumstances," Linda

says, pulling her skirt down, or, at least, trying to. It only

succeeds in pulling the top tight against her hard nipples so they

show perfectly. I can only grin.

"Strangely, I've really enjoyed it, too," Bill says. I'm

surprised. "Well," he says looking at me, "why not? Nice clothes. Good

company. Good fun. Right?"

"Right!" Walt and Norm chorus. The menus are taken up and the

wine steward comes to the table. We order martinis around as well as

two bottles of Chianti for dinner. After the food comes (as good as

advertised), we drink, laugh, and generally have fun.

"Woo!" Linda says then and I look at her. She's blushing and

sitting very straight, I see.

"What's wrong, Linda," Bill asks.

"Ah, nothing," she says hesitantly, looking at Norman. "Just took

me by surprise."

"What?" he asks again. She blushes brightly.

"Ah," she says rather more pointedly than any normal

response. "Nothing. Really." Again she jumps.

Norm turned to me then. "What she's not saying is that I just put

my hand on her leg."

"Yeah," she says. "I'd forgotten how short this skirt is. Oh! Now

quit that!" she says to him. "And you, too," she says to Walt.

"You're sure?" Walt says and she stiffens again.

"Yes I'm sure!" she says. "Now don't!"

"Don't what? I can't imagine what you're talking about," Norman

says with a grin. Now her mouth comes open and her bedroom eyes

appear.

"You ... ah, you know," she sighs. Then she relaxes. "Whew!" she

says.

"Maybe someone else would appreciate us," Walt says to Norman and

Norm grins. I feel his hand touch the top of my thigh closest to his

leg and jump just as Linda did. Quickly, my hand darts to the back of

his. I can see that Bill, blushing brightly, has reacted the same way.

"What is it with you ladies?" Norman says. "You showed us

everything but your cute little pussies a little while ago. You don't

mind if we just get a little dessert, do you?"

"Maybe not," I say, holding his hand tightly where it rests on my

thigh. "But not here. Okay?"

"I don't know," he says and I see Linda stiffen again. He

squeezes my thigh with his huge hand, only a couple of scant inches

away from the biggest surprise of his life. I'm holding my own but, I

can see, only because Linda is not doing as well. She looks at Bill

and I for help for just a second then her look changes.

"Oh!" she moans. "Oh. Oh, yes!" She's squirming now.

"You don't know what you're missing," Walt says to Bill.

"Neither do you," Bill says back with a smile that he shares with

me across the table as he grabs his wine with his free hand. I do the

same thing with my own wine then get the bottle and refill Norm's

glass as well. He looks at me with a grin and, reluctantly, moves his

hand from my thigh to the glass.

Linda has closed her eyes now and is rocking in her seat.

"Linda's a screamer," I say with a grin. "Hope you're ready for

that."

Both men laugh and Walt returns his hand to his wine glass and

away from Bill. Bill sighs with relief as he looks at me. He's a

little pale. They obviously haven't moved from Linda's lap since they

started and I can tell she's about to come. As I see her pace change,

I lift my glass. "Salute!" I say.

"Salute," the other three say loudly as Linda moans loudly with

her climax. It almost works though there's definitely a different

quality to her toast. It lasts longer, too. We're all laughing and

trying to swallow the gulps of wine as we watch her.

We give Linda a few minutes to calm down, Norm trying my thigh

again, switching hands on his wineglass, before we get up to leave.

Bill surprises everyone, including the men, when he asks if

they'd like a nightcap.

* * *

Bill vouches for everyone when we get to his building, the men's

arms full of our purchases. The better to keep them off us. I'm

surprised the guard knows him but, without saying anything that would

give away the situation, he says, "The guards have to know. Besides,

you could have got us in."

"This your sugar daddy's place?" Norm says.

"Yeah. I guess you could say that," I answer.

"Yours, too, sweetie?" Walt asks Bill.

"Well. Maybe you could say that." He grins at me again. He leads

us into the apartment and indicates the chairs by the door to deposit

the packages.

We all sit in the sunken living room and Bill serves everyone

Ouzo. We talk quietly for a while, rather uncomfortably, I think. On

the second or third Ouzo, I'm surprised as Bill puts one knee on the

big couch next to Walt and lowers his mouth to the man's. Norman wow's

as he watches the kiss extend and Walt's fingers accepted on Bill's

hard nipples near him.

"Do you like that," Bill says as he pulls back slightly.

"Oh, yeah, baby. I've been waiting all night for that," Walt

says.

"But Amy has a nicer body than I do," he says.

"I don't know," Walt says and Norman seconds it. "I like little

tits like that," Norman says. Then he turns to me. "But I like big

ones, too." He looks down at my chest. Maybe I know what Bill's doing

now. I get up slightly on one knee and kiss Norman solidly on the

lips, letting my tongue delve into his mouth. It sounds like he's

going to hyperventilate as I break the kiss. Bill motions to me and,

following his lead, we switch. For the next several minutes, we kiss

the two men and feel them respond to us.

Linda is sitting between the two men again and only looks from

one to the other of us like a tennis watcher. She's grinning so

broadly she may not be able to hold it back. Walt's hands are all over

my breasts but I fend him off when he moves lower. Bill's doing the

same thing.

Then Bill moves away from Norm to the VCR and I think I know

what's about to happen.

"There's something I'd like you to see," he says with a grin. "A

new product the company is about to market."

"Oh, no," Walt groans. "Now?"

"Oh, I think you'll enjoy it." As the leader rolls out on the

tape, Bill extends his hand to Linda and presses me into the spot

between the two men. Linda smiles and sits down in one of the chairs

where she can watch me and the two men.

Norm watches Bill round the couch and come up behind me. I don't

know what he's got in mind but I know what's going to happen when they

see the end of the tape, I'm afraid. Bill unties the string at the

back of my neck and, if I wasn't quick, the whole top would have

dropped in my lap.

"All right!" Norm moans and attracts Walt's attention. He

immediately sees the loose strings that used to hold my top up. Bill's

still right behind me, leaning against the back of the couch. Both men

turn to me then to play with the little strings. They only divert

their attention slightly to look at the screen but I see myself in the

little nightgown as I walk to the big bed.

"Whoa!" Walt says. "That's you, isn't it?" I only nod and

smile. I wonder if I'm about to get killed.

My image on the big screen climbs onto the bed and begins the

slow manipulation of breasts and tongue and everything else I could

think of at the time.

"God, that's hot!" Norm moans as he watches, his hand still

poised over my chest holding a string. Walt is frozen in a similar

attitude.

"Tell me if they're as big as I think they are, Amy," Bill

whispers behind me. Norm sits up to straighten himself. I watch myself

playing with my body sensuously in front of us.

"You're unbelievable!" Walt says. I decide I might as well try

it. I let go of my top, since there's no alternative, and lower my

hands to the front of their pants on both sides of me. I start fairly

low and feel large bulges. "Careful, baby. You'll get more than you

expect there," Walt says. I follow the bulge up, knowing that it is

one of the fattest cocks I've ever touched or, in other circumstances,

seen.

Now, on the screen, I've taken off the top and am playing with my

hard nipples. Both men take a moment to glance at my exposed chest now

before turning back to the screen. Their hands are on them now.

I let my fingers trace the shape of Norman's cock then as I move

a little on Walt's. I follow Norm's up and up until I reach his belt

and, jumping it, find that he's actually sticking out above it and

under his shirt. I catch Bill's attention by turning my head, and nod

yes with a big smile. He moves to the VCR and presses pause. I know

I'm in trouble.

Both men turn to the real thing.

"God, you're fantastic!" Walt says and, looking down at my

exposed chest, turns his head and covers my nipple. His hand clasps my

thigh roughly but I quickly move my hand to intercept him yet

again. Norm now has done the same thing and I have his hand, too. It's

not time yet for the unveiling. I think Bill has that one in mind.

But they're driving me wild with their tongues on my nipples,

pulling and sucking and stretching and tonguing them at the same

time. It's enormously sexy and making me squirm with every new touch.

Bill restarts the VCR and I watch myself humping a pillow for

several minutes, the two men looking too, though they haven't released

my nipples yet from their probing tongues.

I watch Bill move to Norm's side and motion Linda to Walt's. They

take their free hands and, at the same time, begin to manipulate their

hard dicks inside their pants. The men are going crazy.

On the screen, it's almost time. As I think I'm going to come

just from the stimulation of the tape and their tongues on my breasts,

my image turns and there I am. My cock spews come onto my swollen

nipples on the screen.

It's as if someone has hit the two men even as they watch me come

and then settle sensually on the screen. I can actively feel their

jaws loosen since they are around my nipples.

"Oh, what the fuck," Walt says. Norm is staring at the screen in

disbelief as the tape ends and auto rewinds.

"Are you all ..." Norm begins. "Of course not," he says as he

looks at Linda. After all it hasn't been that long since he had his

hand in her snatch.

Bill is in front of him and turns his back to him. He's taken the

pantyhose off and, moving the skirt aside, guides Norm's hand to his

pussy from behind.

"A lot depends on how you react right now," Bill says into the

ringing silence. Norm's fingers are buried in Bill's cunt now.

"Fuck, I don't care," Walt says from the other side of

me. "You're still the sexiest thing I've ever seen. He buries his

mouth in my breast again and, as Linda lets go of his hand, lowers to

go into my pantyhose. Almost immediately, he finds my cock and wraps

around it.

"Norm?" Bill says.

"I don't care either. But I sure like your cunt."

"Will you suck my clitoris?" he says with a grin.

"In a second," he moans.

Bill turns. His hard cock is standing out from his naked stomach

as he holds up the folds of the white dress.

Norm laughs loudly. "You are very unusual folks, aren't you?"

"I'll agree with that," Bill says as he brings his dick to

Norman's mouth and sighs as it passes his teeth. Norm leans forward

and buries his hand in Bill's pussy at the same time, now probing for

his asshole as well until he finds it.

As Linda frees Walt's dick and begins moving her hand on it's

huge roundness, he lowers his mouth to my lap, pushing my pantyhose

down past my knees to my ankles.

"So," Linda says. "Who's going to fuck who with what?" Everybody

laughs, no matter what they have in their mouths. Linda shrugs and

lowers her mouth onto Walt's lip stretching cock.

Chapter 15

DURING THE LAST few months, I've made three full scale porno movies

along with two more amateur efforts with Linda and Bill. We staged one

with Ivan and Francie in the first part, and with Walt and Norm in the

last part. The other effort was strictly me, Linda and Bill in front

of Sonny's multiple cameras. We even got Sonny to join us after a

while. But mostly it was a private sort of affair that I'm already

gaining royalties on.

A week after we met Walt and Norm and went on our great shopping

trip, Bill got me an appointment with a fine surgeon and the same

afternoon, with my psychiatrist. Neither were what I expected.

Carol Venter, my surgeon, is the foremost reconstructive surgeon

in the area and the only person who does an adequate job with sex

reassignment surgery. It's a little distracting to have a tall blond

with enormous tits sitting between your legs while you are laid out in

a thin paper gown and trussed to stirrups.

She didn't start our first encounter well when she walked in and

grabbed me by the dick, saying, "So why in the world do you want to

get rid of this beautiful thing?"

Though I enjoyed her examination thoroughly, she didn't change my

mind though she distressed Sonny, who was taking film of the

encounter, a lot. It seems he has the same question.

She's a wonderful doctor, even if her sense of humor is a little

strange. I know, completely and unequivocally, every step of the

process along with all the external and internal "adjustments" that

are going to happen. Almost slice by slice, as a matter of fact. I

also know the probabilities of total failure (dying, they call it), a

failed internal re-placement, a failed external connection, and nerve

damage. The first two are highly unlikely while the third is a 50-50

and the nerve damage is a major possibility. All but the first and the

last can be corrected by further surgery. Dead is dead and nerve

damaged is final.

She keeps calling it minor surgery and, for her, it probably

is. Every time I think of it, I go pale again.

What still surprises me is how close a man's genital structure,

internally and externally, are to a woman's. The transition from male

to female is almost trivial. It would be true the other way around but

for a penis. The blood vessels necessary to inflate it properly and

the extra skin to form it are a problem there.

The biggest problem going to female is rerouting the urethra and

removing the prostate. You have to piss right and you can't have a

bunch of male hormones flooding into your body to confuse things. Of

course, the whole thing sounds fantastically painful. Openings here

and there, scraping a lot of places, regrowing and reconnecting all

over, and losing my balls, of course, sound like a lot.

She did guarantee me a mix of good and bad. I won't feel a thing

under the knife, I'll hurt like hell for a couple of days, it will go

away, I'll have the tightest cunt in town, and I won't have to worry

about tucking in any more. She also guaranteed that my body would

never produce enough lubrication but that I can supplement it

externally. Everything else is maybe or maybe not, depending on her

skill.

The psychiatrist, on the other hand, is almost as strange an

experience.

Dr. Freedman, Arkady to me, is a seriously deranged man who looks

and, usually, acts like my grandfather. He asks and I answer. And with

every answer, I wonder if he is judging and ready to veto the entire

thing for lack of appropriate psychological basis.

You see, I really have to convince him that I'm not just doing

this as a lark of some sort but that it is necessary to my

psychological well-being. I have to really want it, actually feel that

I'm really a female, to convince him. What's strange is that I'm

having less problem sincerely feeling that than I thought I

would. After all, I spent a lot of time being a guy.

I've thoroughly explored my relationship with each of my parents

and my brother and sisters, my marriage, my work ... everything.

He actually guided me through the times I had sex with guys in

college. And yes. I remembered a couple of other times. I even

remembered a deeply buried memory of a camp counselor when I was nine

who made me give him a blowjob before he did the same for me. I don't

really think I was purposely burying it but it took a lot of thought

before I could really remember any details.

He talked me through every second of the last year, I think. All

my feelings and fears and enjoyments were laid bare to his probing.

In all, it was a lot more painful and revealing than my time in

the stirrups with Carol Venter between my legs.

There have been some interesting times.

For instance, when I had my x-rays, I walked into the hospital in

blouse, skirt, panties, and high heels. It's real tough to walk around

a hospital in a piece of cloth, tied together in the back, without

showing anything "extra" off. The x-ray technician spent a lot of time

arranging my legs, turning me by hand, etc. etc. when he took my

pictures. But he only looked real pale after he'd developed them to

deliver to Carol.

Another of those times was with Carol and her nurse as she took

detailed measurements of everything down there, the nurse taking

notes. I guess she knew beforehand, but she certainly had a hard time

staying calm as Carol pulled and stretched and measured and

prodded. Afterwards, Sonny got to film another little piece of porn as

the nurse insisted on her own, closer, inspection. I think it was sort

of like a bunch of rednecks trying to reform a dedicated lesbian. She

was quite a missionary for staying male. It almost would have worked

if she hadn't found my nipples and turned them into the center of her

attention for quite a while.

Now, Dr. Arkady and I are into an entirely new direction as

well. And this is interesting. He asks me tough hypothetical

questions, and I get to scramble to answer. The one about kids and

future generations without my seed was easy. I don't care. Others are

much tougher.

"Given a choice," he asks, "would I prefer to give a man a blow

job or eat out a woman?" That's miserably tough. I like pussy best

but I don't mind a cock either. But I think, in free thinking people,

that may be fairly universal for women as well as men.

"Would you rather be on top or on the bottom?" Yes. Either

one. Control isn't really one of my big hangups.

"Would you rather watch a football game or wash the dishes?" Give

me a break. You couldn't ask any woman in the country the same

question and get a different answer. Nobody likes to do dishes. No

matter how much they hate football.

"Do you like red, blue, yellow, black, or brown best in

clothing?" It depends totally on who's in it and how the clothes are

put together. I've seen some wonderful brown outfits on women and,

quickly to mind, a hugely fat woman in a pair of yellow shorts that

almost made me sick. I've got to admit though that clothing is a big

part of my decision as well as the relationships of people.

I like being treated like a lady. Particularly a beautiful

lady. It's flattering, ego building, and just generally enjoyable. But

I didn't have too much trouble as a man, either. Maybe not the same

kind of attention or as blatant, but still nice. As a man, I still

think it's a great turn on to have a flaming fag proposition me even

as it is for the greatest looking secretary to do it. The same holds

as a woman. It's also great to get fucked just like it's great to get

some wonderful body into bed and put it in her.

I don't know what kind of a grade I'm getting for my answers, but

I think I'm pretty well adjusted, both in my new persona and my

old. Maybe the question that showed me best what I really felt was the

last one he asked.

"Amy? How would you feel if, right now, someone came in and told

you you had to get a haircut and dress like a man from now on?"

This one isn't intellectual. It is physical. It almost makes me

sick to my stomach. Just the thought. Always forced to be a man. I

would be devastated. It would be the greatest loss of my life. The

only thing that saves me from a bout of tears is the sure knowledge

that no one in the world could force me to do that. No one.

"I can never go back to just that. Never, ever," I tell him.

"Okay," he says. "What if someone told you that you have to sell

every suit and tie, pair of wingtips, and pair of men's underwear you

own and never buy any again."

I grin immediately, knowing the answer incontrovertibly. "I don't

want to be limited, Arkady. But if that was absolutely the way it was,

it really wouldn't bother me very much."

"Amy," he says. "When I asked the first question, you went pale

and almost looked sick. Yet when I asked the second, you just

smiled. Was it because you had been warned by the first question or

that it really doesn't matter? What you may very well be losing?"

"It really doesn't matter, Arkady. I just realized it. I could

survive without ever putting on another male outfit. But I couldn't

stop what I am." I look at him. "I mean, what I am now."

"Okay. I want to try one more thing." He moves to the middle of

the room in front of me, standing so I have to look up at him. "Mike,"

he says and, for some reason, it shakes me. Until a few weeks ago,

that was my name and now I hardly recognize it.

"I want you to look directly at me. Forget what you look like and

what you're wearing. Sit back in the chair and look directly at

me. Okay. Now cross your legs. No. Your ankle on your knee. That's the

way a man crosses his legs. That's it." He's just looking into my

eyes.

"Mike. Think back to when you were courting Linda. Remember how

masculine her little blond body made you feel. Think of the way you

put your arms around her. Opening doors for her. Remember?"

I'm dislocating. It's strange.

"Remember the pride in your job. Your conquests. Your secretary

letting you put your hand in her panties that time. Remember?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Feel how hard you're getting just thinking about it. Now what

about that time you and the guys went out and hid in the alley while

Melanie Fritsh undressed in her open bedroom window. Remember the

feelings?"

"Yeah. God, she was hot."

"Right! And remember dancing with her at the high school

prom. How you held her close to you while you danced, your hand in her

back pushing her big tits into your chest. Remember that?"

"Of course." Peripherally, I realize I'm sitting here with my

hands clasped across my stomach and my ankle bouncing over my knee. He

steps close to me, making me turn my head up to him still more as he

puts his hands on the arms of the chair.

"Now, keep looking right in my eyes. Don't look anywhere

else. Understood, Mike?"

"Okay," I say. He moves but, as he told me, I'm looking at his

eyes fixedly.

I feel him touch me but it seems alien. When he suddenly pinches

hard enough to grit his teeth, it draws me like a stretched rubber

band back to myself. I look down at his fingers where they painfully

hold my nipples.

"Oww!" I scream as my hands go to his to stop him. When I look

down at myself, it is a major dislocation. My stocking covered legs

are strangely crossed with my ankle on the top of my knee and my legs

spread widely -- unladylike to say the least, even though my short

skirt is long enough to fall between my legs. He releases my nipples.

I feel something akin to vertigo as I look down at my body from

the perspective I had gained during his moments of talk. But, almost

as if I were falling, I drop back into my new persona. My legs cross

properly at the knees and my hands cup my breasts protectively. He

moves back to his normal place behind his desk, looking at me.

"What did you feel, Mike?" he says but, now, it almost doesn't

register.

"Amy," I demand flatly. "I felt like I was sort of floating in my

old memories of myself. As I was, I guess. Then you brought me back

and I immediately ... regained myself? Is that the right way to say

that?"

He nods. "When you came back to yourself, what did you feel? What

did you think about in that second or two?"

"I thought that I was sitting wrong. That was first besides the

pain, of course. Then I thought that you shouldn't have felt free to

touch me, let alone pinch me like that."

"So you felt your inappropriate posture and then you felt my

inappropriate actions? Is that right?"

"Yes. I guess so. Yeah."

"Okay," he says, closing his notebook as he does every session

when we're finished.

"Aren't you going to tell me what you learned from that?" He

looks at his hands before he clasps them in front of his chest.

"Very well. First, we both know that there is a lot of 'Mike' in

there still. You recognize that." I nod. "That's natural. Some things,

like the way a man sits, are somewhat ingrained. You have, after all,

been doing that for a long time.

"However, a man confronted with the pain I inflicted on you would

have reacted very directly and probably very strongly. First, men

don't like to be touched. Americans, at least. So I would have

expected a frown from you. Instead, you reacted with surprise. I would

have expected some physical reaction on your part like striking

out. You didn't do that. In fact, you reacted in a fairly feminine

manner. Protective, of course, but not violent.

"Essentially, I think you may have a larger amount of feminine

traits than even an extended course of female hormones can explain. I

believe, in sum, that you are actually ready for the completion of the

life changes you have been contemplating."

"I'm ready?" I ask.

"I think so. Of course, there will be some adjustment problems

after the change, the surgery, and I expect you will need to consult

me for some time to come. However, there seems to be nothing

psychological in the way of your proposed change."

I smile and nod before getting up to leave. "Thank you, doctor,"

I say, offering my hand. He stands, as he would with any woman and

most men, I'd suppose. But, unexpectedly, he kisses my hand as he

holds it.

"I think you're going to make an absolutely marvelous woman,

Amy. I truly do." He smiles broadly in response to my ear to ear grin.

When I get home fifteen minutes later, I call Carol and tell her

what the doctor said.

"I've been expecting this about any time. What do you say we

schedule your surgery for ... let's see. How about day after

tomorrow. That'll require you to be at the hospital at about seven

tomorrow night. Is that okay?"

I swallow roughly. My mouth has suddenly totally dried up.

"Amy? Does that sound okay?"

"Ah, yeah. Fine, I guess."

"Not getting cold feet are you? Want to change your mind?" she

asks.

"No. I don't want to change my mind. It's just ... well, you

know. All of a sudden."

"You've been working on this for almost six months," she says.

"Yes. Of course. I'm ready and we might as well do it right away.

* * *

"Whoa. You look like you've seen a ghost," Linda says an hour

later when she comes in. "What happened?"

"Arkady told me today that I'm ready for the surgery."

"Great!" she says with a smile. "That's what you've been waiting

for right? Now Carol can schedule the surgery."

"Yeah. I go to the hospital tomorrow evening," I say. Her face

falls.

"Tomorrow? Already?"

"Yeah. That's sort of how it hit me, too."

"Your last night," she says then.

"Well, last night as a man."

"That's what I meant." She seems to think for a minute before she

speaks again. "If it were my last night as a woman, I'd want to do

everything that I'd never be able to do again."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe go shopping or dancing. Then I'd want you to

fuck me until morning."

"Doesn't sound all bad. But I've been dressing as a woman for a

long time. I don't think I'd even pass as a man now, with these tits

in my way."

"I don't either," she says with a grin.

"Shopping is probably going to be as much or more fun than before

the surgery in another couple of weeks."

"Yeah, probably."

"And I've been dancing as a woman for a while, too. That only

leaves --"

"Yeah," she says huskily. "This is the last night you'll be able

to spend inside me. The last night I'll be able to feel you put your

big dick inside me and shoot your come into next week. Does that

sound good to you?"

"Yeah. It sure does."

She stands up that very second and, as I watch, pulls her panties

off and tosses them in her chair. Then she comes to me and I help her

pull my pantyhose off and, not satisfied, undo my skirt and unbutton

my blouse as well. She restrains herself for long enough for me to

take her clothes the rest of the way off, but for the garter belt and

nylons.

We both watch in the well lighted room as she sits on my lap and

my dick disappears between her legs. It is tremendously erotic to

watch her slowly move up and down on my swollen flesh until I finally

release my seed deep inside her and her climax makes her movements

wildly erratic for a few minutes.

After a few minutes, her head lying on my shoulder near my ear,

she says, "Do you want to go hunting now? Or off to the bar to drink

with your buddies?"

"No. I think I'll settle for a blowjob and about a dozen good

fucks. What do you say?"

"I say, hold on to your hat, sweetie." She slides down my body

until her mouth covers my cock. With my hands in her hair, the night

begins in earnest.

Chapter 16

THE WAIT WAS hard. I'd been shaking when I went into the hospital the

night before and it wasn't any better this morning. I must have taken

20 nervous pisses between the time they woke me up for the first pills

and the time they came with the gurney to haul me off.

Sonny's been like a mother hen since we arrived. It was almost

silly letting him set up his camera and then walking to the glass

doorway, waiting for him to set up again and then going into my room,

waiting for him to setup before talking to my doctor. Carol was a

little impatient with the whole thing but understands.

Actually, Carol scared me a little even though we've been through

all this a million times in the last few months.

"Don't kid yourself, Amy," she said this morning before they gave

me the strong drugs. "This is major surgery and a million minor

things and a couple of major ones can happen. This isn't something to

be taken lightly."

"I know," I said. "We've talked about it a lot. Remember?"

"Yeah, we have. But I want you to be damned sure of what's going

on."

"I understand. Really." Then she left me to stew for another half

hour. Great!

Now I'm so fuzzy from the anesthetic, I'm not even sure where I

am. They tell me I'm in recovery.

All I remember is Carol, dressed all in green and with a mask,

hovering over me telling me everything will be okay. Then the

anesthesiologist put the mask over my mouth and nose and told me to

breathe deep. I did and here I am.

Sonny comes into the room behind Carol who now has her cap and

mask off but still looks completely the professional. His lights are

bright as he turns on the camera and my eyes aren't ready for it. I

squint. She flashes a look of total hatred at him before she comes to

me with a big smile.

"How do you feel, honey?" she says. I nod and fight the cotton

balls that seem to be inhabiting my mouth, holding my tongue down. I

can't focus my eyes very well. I mumble something. "It's okay. You

don't have to say a thing. Just relax for a while and pretty soon

we'll take you off to your room to sleep."

"How?" I mumble out. She smiles and nods to me that I don't have

to say anything else.

"You're fine. The surgery went beautifully. I think you'll be

pleased." I nod and fall asleep again.

* * *

I wake up again and look around. It's like no time at all has

passed. Everything's just the same except Sonny and Carol are talking

across the room. Carol sees that I'm awake and comes to me again.

"Feeling better?"

I do and nod. "Yeah," I croak. "Is my throat supposed to be this

dry?"

"Yeah. It's normal. A side effect of the anesthetic. Try a little

water?"

"I'd love to."

She holds a bottle with a curved glass straw in the top of it. I

suck on the straw and get a shot of water. It tastes very strange and

I grimace.

"And that's the taste of the anesthetic." She looks into my eyes,

takes my pulse, and generally does some doctor things before she looks

in my face again. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay now, I think. No races yet but I'm okay." She nods.

"What say we get you down to a more comfortable bed then?" I

nod. That's really all I'm interested in doing right now. Sleep.

The bright lights go off and Sonny comes to my side while the

nurse and Carol go to the other side of the room for a gurney.

"You okay, baby?" he asks. I nod again.

"How was it? Get a lot of pictures?"

"Yeah. Great. But I sure hated to see all that nice ripe meat

going to waste. Besides, it was a little bloody and Doctor Hyde there

doesn't think that part is family fare. Private pictures maybe. I've

got my ways." He winked and got out of the way.

Now I was awake and tried to help as they moved me to the gurney,

pulled the wires off my chest, and took me down to my room after a

short elevator ride. They again lifted me up, insisting that I just

lay there and not help, and into my bed. It seemed all different from

just a little while ago when I left.

"What can I expect now, Carol?"

"Oh, you'll probably have irresistible urges to watch soap operas

all day." I laughed with her and the nurse.

"Really. What now?"

"Well. Now you'll stick around for the rest of the day and

tonight. Probably tomorrow, too. Then we'll see about getting you a

wheelchair, rolling you down to your car, and Linda can watch you for

a few days."

"I've gotta take a piss. What now?"

"Go ahead. You've got a catheter placed and will for a couple of

weeks. At least until the bandages come off. No doubt you'll be as

ready as most of my patients are to get rid of that. Other than that,

it's going to be just a matter of keeping from getting too bored while

you sit around and heal."

* * *

"God, Carol. It feels like somebody kicked my balls all the way

up to my bellybutton."

"Yeah, that's what I've heard. If you need it, we can increase

your pain pills a little. But this is just part of the game. And

pretty soon, that'll go away."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll try to tough it out."

"Good girl."

Humm, I think. I don't think anyone ever said that before and

really meant it.

* * *

"Okay. So what have you been feeling?"

"Terminally bored!" I almost scream.

"That's a good sign. So are you ready to get off your duff and

start doing some work?"

"Yeah, but it's just a little hard."

"I know. And we're going to do something about that right now."

Carol had changed the bandage (everyone called it my diaper) the

night of the surgery and again in the morning. Then the nurse did it

in the afternoon and again the next morning before I was

released. Sonny said it was his kind of diaper since it didn't have a

back side to it but only covered the space on my front and between my

legs so I could take a shit.

While I again lay in the stirrups on my back, she cut off the

bandages and then talked to me while the nurse spent an inordinate

amount of time with a washrag between my legs. I smelled nasty and I

hated it a lot but there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do about it.

"Are you ready to graduate to some training pants?" she said.

"I'd give anything. Does that mean I can lose that bandage and

take a piss on my own?"

"That's what it means," she says with a smile. "And I get to tell

you how to do that."

I nodded, knowing I probably wasn't going to like this any more

than a lot of things that had happened to me in recent days.

"You already know the old urinal is out now, right?"

I grin.

"Okay. But for a couple of days, you have to be very careful

about your eliminations. You bend over forward as far as you can and

then go. It'll probably sting like fire at first but that'll go away

pretty soon. It may be pretty messy too. Then you have to make very

sure you're as clean as possible. No drips. Okay?" I nod. "Then put

this nice sticky salve all over afterwards."

"That means no beer busts, huh?"

"I'd say not for a while," she grins. "Then next week you come

back here and we'll do some more tests. See how we did. Okay?"

Again I nod. She gives me some plastic panties with thick padding

that looks more like a diaper than anything before. The nurse helps me

get dressed and again I'm in my wheelchair.

"No experimentation," she states flatly. "Keep your dirty fingers

away from the whole area." I wonder if she can read my mind.

* * *

"Okay," she says. "I guess this week has gone all right or you'd

have called. Right?"

"Right. Everything's okay. I'm just real tired of paste all over

my lower half and wearing diapers full time. Oh, and riding around in

this cripple's motorcycle." I point at the wheelchair.

"Well. Depending on what we see today, that may all be over. What

do you think of that?"

"Thank god," I moan.

"Okay. Then back in the saddle, sweetie," she says, motioning to

the stirrups again. I moan but get on the table gingerly and lay back

in the stirrups.

Carol watches between my legs (with the ever present camera on

Sonny's shoulder) as the nurse once again painstakingly cleans me up

like a baby. Carol puts on her rubber gloves and puts KY jelly on her

finger. Again, I think as she pushes into my asshole. She prods around

for a long time, then nods and grunts.

"Okay. Lets take a look at the front now." Her fingers press and

prod at the conjunction of my legs. It's not unpleasant but the

furthest stretch of the imagination couldn't make it fun either. She's

rough. "Now inside. If it hurts anywhere I touch I want you to tell me

immediately."

She's changed gloves and redone the KY jelly now. Her finger goes

between my legs and I feel a new sensation. I know her finger is

inside me and it feels ... weird. Really weird. Not unpleasant. Just

weird. There's no pain anywhere she touches even when she presses

firmly in all directions. The pressure on my bladder from somewhere

deep inside me is the closest.

"No pain?" I shake my head. "None at all?"

"No. It's okay."

"Great! Okay, then. Let's see if there are any nerves connected

here." I can kind of watch her fingers as they move further up my

front, still between my legs. This too feels weird. But this is

definitely pleasant.

"Mmmm. I could get to like that," I moan.

"Yeah. That's the idea. If everything works --" She prods a

little higher. "-- right here should feel real good pretty soon." I

cringe to the touch.

"Oh. It feels good right now. It's like ... I don't know. Like

you're rubbing the sensitive part of my dick. The head, you know?"

"Yeah. That's what it should feel like in a way at least." She

stops but now I can feel the sensitive buds of my hardened nipples

against the inside of my paper nightgown.

"Are you going to give me my first orgasm, Carol?" I ask

seriously.

"Maybe. But that'll have to wait a couple of weeks, I think," she

grins. "For now we're just happy there's feeling and that it's not the

feeling of abject pain from an infection."

"I guess I'll settle for that, for the moment," I say.

"Don't go experimenting yet. A little more healing and

everything's going to be just fine. Okay?"

"Sure," I say. "A couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks." She pulls off the glove and comes back to me

while the nurse again cleans me up. "Okay. Everything looks

great. Better even than I expected. But for now just keep hands

off. Yours and everyone else's. Keep it scrupulously clean. Try to

stay off your feet as much as possible though you need to start doing

some leg lifts to build up some tummy muscles."

She offers me a hand and I take it to turn around on the

examining table.

"Two more weeks?"

"Two weeks. Then we'll see."

* * *

Her fingers, two I think, are deep inside of me moving around to

all sides. This time it doesn't seem to feel a thing like it did the

last time. Now it actually feels good. Last time it wasn't painful,

but it wasn't fun either.

"And this? Can you feel this?"

"Yeah," I moan. "It feels good."

"Okay." She renews the KY jelly on her fingers and then puts them

on the outside between my legs. "Now we'll learn the extent of my

brilliance."

I can feel her fingers rubbing me like she was rubbing my dick in

a distant way. But she seems to be concentrating on the most sensitive

spots of the head. Of course, when I look down I can't see anything

for her to rub. But it's certainly working.

"Oh!" I moan. "Ah. Do you mean to do that?"

"What's that?"

"I think you could make me cum that way."

"I certainly hope so. That's exactly what I'm trying to see." I

lay there and moan some more. God it feels good. Wonderful. "Let it

go, if it can happen."

I close my eyes and feel the feelings. The nurse is staring

between my legs with a little grin. Sonny's cameras cover his face but

I heard his snigger a minute ago.

It's almost like someone was beating me off but

different. Wonderful. Oh. I'm moaning and I can't stop myself. Then it

hits me all over.

"Oh, shit. Oh, ahhh. Ohhhhhhh!" I moan as a true climax wracks my

body from top to bottom. I feel spasms throughout my body until I can

hardly keep my feet in the silly stirrups that keep my legs spread. As

the majority of it passes, I feel it more as a pain there now. I put

my hands to the back of hers before I look at her.

Her smile spreads from cheek to cheek. God she's proud of

herself.

"Fantastic," she cries as she again strips off the glove and

tosses it in a garbage can. "Perfect. I wasn't sure. But I think I am

now. That was a climax, wasn't it?"

I grin back at her and nod my head. "It sure as hell was."

"You could feel my fingers inside you, too, couldn't you?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I could. It felt good."

"Great! That's the idea." She stands beside me and puts her hand

on my stomach. "My dear? I think I can now declare you a perfectly

normal ... female."

Then she raises a cautionary finger.

"Not quite. Your body will never produce the necessary lubricants

for sex or, probably, even to stay comfortable for the day. I'd plan

on keeping a tube of KY jelly with you all the time."

"You think I'm going to have that much chance for sex?"

"That's up to you. No you'll need it just so you don't get chafed

down there from walking, etcetera." I nod.

"Maybe from sex," I moan.

"I wish you luck," she grins. "I wish you luck."

"So what are my limitations? Should I stay away from well hung

studs?"

"Up to you," she said. "But I built in plenty of room for

you. Probably more than necessary but I'm sure, somewhere out there,

there's a guy who could hit bottom."

"It almost sounds like a challenge to look for him," I say.

Chapter 17

"GOD, IT'S WONDERFUL," I think as I walk out of the doctor's office

and down the street with a brisk click to my high heels. "I'm truly a

woman! Fully! Completely! Totally!"

I actually skip as I walk, my arms swing and my unbound breasts

bob with my steps. My skirt swirls around my thighs as I place my feet

directly in front of each other as I walk and swing my hips. My smile

stretches from ear to ear, I'm sure. I've never been so happy.

The doctor's appointment had been wonderful. Everything works and

the pain has passed completely. And my first orgasm as a full-fledged

woman.

Like a teenager looking forward to his initiation to sex stopping

for a condom, I'd stopped at the clinic pharmacy and bought a tube of

KY jelly to slip into my purse. Tonight Bill was taking Linda and me

out to celebrate and I could hardly wait.

I turn into the broad entrance to the park and swing around to

look at the beautiful trees, the distant lake, and the green, green

grass. The cool air feels good under the short skirt. I unbutton

another of the top buttons, now down to a point between my ample

breasts. The surgery seems to have spurred another surge of growth

there and I'm now straining at my C-cup bras. That's one of the

reasons why I'm not wearing one now. As if I needed a reason.

Far across the lake I can see a man and two boys working a

radio-controlled boat in the smooth water. Otherwise, as far as I can

see, I'm alone. I exaggerate my walk still further, swishing my hips

broadly to swing my skirt up still higher. High enough, I realize, to

show the top of my thigh-hugging stockings. But I don't care. I just

feel too wonderful.

"Yeah, baby," the voice says from the trees near the

path. "Lookin' good."

I don't slow as I walk on down the walkway, my smile

broadening. The kid is kind of cute in a street tough sort of way.

"I'll say," another voice says from a tree on the other side of

the path. "Nice tits."

"Nice ass," the first voice says from directly behind me.

"Yeah, nice ass. And legs." The boy in front of me now is another

street tough in bulging white tee-shirt and worn jeans. He stands

insolently in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms crossed over

his chest.

"Yeah, swing it for us some more, baby," the one behind me

says. "I liked that before."

"Yeah, swing it."

Even these smart asses can't ruin my mood. Still smiling, I round

the guy in front of me, turn, and wave back at them. The two of them

run up beside me, on either side, and chatter on about how good I look

and how they like to watch me. Following the path, they accompany me

until we are out of sight of the lake, somewhere near the center of

the park.

"Hey, tell you what, sweet thing," the more daring leader says

from my right side. "I'd like to see more. I really would. I mean, I

like what I see. But there just must be more to it all. You know?"

I think I do.

"Yeah, me too," the other boy says. "I'd like to see more, too."

"Sorry guys," I say. "What you see is it." I keep walking. Then

the leader caresses my arm and, startled, I shy away. I bump into the

other boy who is close beside me on the left.

"No need for that, baby. We're not going to hurt you. No shit."

"Yeah," the second boy says dully. This boy's hand closes around

my biceps. I stop and glare at him and he instinctively pulls back his

hand. Unfortunately, the leader takes this opportunity to put his arm

around my waist rather roughly and pushes me off the pathway. The

second boy braves up now and renews his hold on my biceps.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just follow us and we'll show you a few

things you haven't learned yet."

I tried to set my heels but, after a quick stop, they push me on

more roughly. In another five steps, we are in the depth of the

trees. I struggle but I've lost the initiative. They stop in another

few steps and the leader exchanges his hold around my waist to hold

both my wrists behind me.

"Here," he says. "Hold on like this. Right?" The second boy

dumbly takes my wrists then, holding tightly. The leader, relieved of

his hold, rounds me then to stand, insolent again, in front of me,

looking me up and down.

"Nice," he says. "And I like that dress. It's so --" I didn't

like the look in his eyes. "-- It's so easy."

His hand comes toward me and slowly begins unbuttoning the front

of my dress. As he does, his grin broadens. I look down and see the

expanse of skin he's exposed between my breasts, then across my

stomach, then at my waist. I try to get my wrists back but the boy has

them firmly in spite of his sweaty palms.

"Hmm, pink," he says as he unbuttons the dress below my

waist. "Little." All the buttons are undone.

He rubs his hands together and, merely as a reaction, I squirm

away and my purse falls off my shoulder. What great timing! The strap

drops to my elbow where it catches and pulls itself open under the

strain of the drop. On top, of course, I my newly purchased tube of KY

jelly.

"Haw," the boy says with a mock laugh. "Look at this! This is

that slippery juice stuff for having better sex. She's all ready for

us, I guess." He rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Now let's

see what we've got here."

Even though I turn away, or at least try, he gets both hands into

the opening of the unbuttoned dress and pushes the sides apart over my

breasts. I feel humiliatingly exposed to his view as his eyes get wide

and his mouth shapes to an O.

"Whoa!" he exclaims. "Look at that! What a great lookin' set of

tits!"

"Ah, shit, Billy. I wanna see, too."

"Yeah. Well. In a few minutes." He edges the sides of my open

dress off the points of my shoulders and it falls to the crooks of my

elbows.

He reaches out and takes one breast in each hand, holding them

beneath for a moment, just looking. Then his hands enfold first one

and then the other. Kneading and stroking gently for a moment. Then

his fingers find my nipples and rub them and roll them between fingers

and thumbs. It sends sensations throughout my body.

"Don't want to get too diverted here," he says, letting them

go. "Got to see the rest here."

His hand goes to his pocket and comes out with the black handle

of a switchblade knife. He keys it and the blade snaps forward toward

me as my breath flees.

"No. Please," I moan.

"Naw. Don't worry. I just want to get rid of these things." The

sharp blade trails along my exposed skin over my hip and the tip dips

down into the waistband of my panties. A flick of his wrist separates

it. A repeat over the other hip releases the material though it is

lightweight enough to stick to my sweaty skin on my tummy and between

my legs and, I think, the cheeks of my ass.

He presses the button on the knife again and, as quickly as it

appeared, the blade disappears back into the black handle, the handle

into his pants pocket.

"Now let's see what we have here," he says, reaching for the

dangling material and slowly peeling it off my front. "Ahh. It's

shaved clean. We got us a hot little bitch here."

"I ... I just had surgery," I say.

"Oh. What for? Gettin' rid of all the hair?"

"No." I shut up and decide not to say anything more.

His finger goes down between my legs and I try to hold them

tightly together.

"Spread out there, baby," he says and kicks the inside of my

shoe. His tennie sole cracks against my ankle bone and stings

sharply. It's also hard enough to make me step outward with one leg to

catch myself. "Better. Yeah."

Now his hand goes between my spread legs and instantly a finger

finds my new hole.

"Hmm. Hot. But you're just drier than a bone. Guess that must be

why you have the slippery juice, huh?"

I watch as he opens the tube and, lewdly holding out his middle

finger, squeezes the KY jelly onto it in a stream from his palm to a

large glob on the end of his finger. He looks me in the eye to see my

reaction and grins at my disgust.

"Mmmm, good," he says with a chuckle. "Just like the real stuff,

huh? Let's see if it works."

His finger lowers back between my legs and into me. He's rough

but the lubricating jelly makes it hard for him to make it too

uncomfortable. I find myself lifting one leg slightly to keep him from

rubbing his thumb into the crease in my leg.

"Yeah," he almost sighs. "She likes that shit! Look at her. Like

a big puppy dog getting its tummy rubbed. And look at this!" I wonder

what now and open my eyes to look down at myself. He's looking

between my legs. "Big ol' clit! Shit! Look at that."

He rubs it roughly but the lubricating jelly doesn't even let

that hurt. In fact, it feels wonderful. That, of course, is enough to

make him stop right away. Frustrating. "Shit!" I hear myself say.

"Oh, don't worry, baby. We'll finish up what we started. But I

want a little of that stuff." I'm not sure if he means the jelly or

exactly what. But I think maybe he means me. It's rather flattering in

a nasty sort of way. Looking around quickly, he unzips and unbuttons

and, in a second, he's standing there in front of me with his swollen

cock in his hand. "Yeah. That's what you need isn't it, sweet thing?"

Looking around behind him, he picks out a piece of ground and

lays down on his back with his dick in the air.

"Com'mon. Bring her over here onto this big hunk of meat." The

kid behind me chuckles and pushes me toward him. It's a terrible

temptation to just give it a swift kick but I have a feeling that

switchblade would be right back out again if I did that.

"That's it," he says as I straddle his hips. "Push her down

here. Right on it."

The kid behind me pulls down on my arms but it really doesn't

have the desired effect. I wouldn't have to bend my knees. But then he

does like we used to in high school to someone unsuspecting and bends

his own knees into the back of mine. This works for him and his weight

pulls me down. I resist just enough to keep from hurting my knees when

they contact the grass.

The guy on the ground holds onto his dick and guides it toward

me. I can feel it at my new portal. Then the other boy pushes down on

my shoulders and I feel it embed itself deep inside me.

"Ahh," I hear. I think it's me.

"You like that, don't ya. Yeah. That's it. Yeah. Now move some."

"Hey, Billy. I ain't even got to see yet. And I want some, too!"

the other boy says.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. Just hang on." Then he stops the

insistent movement between my legs. "No. Wait. You know that KY

shit. That's what the doctor uses to put his finger up your butt, you

know? I'll bet you could use it to get in her that way."

"No," I say reflexively, trying to rise and turn away from these

two.

"Yeah! Okay!" the boy says behind me.

"Here. I'll hold her hands while you get ready." They exchange

holds on my wrists and I hear the other boy stripping off his pants

behind me. "Here's the KY, man. Get it good and greased up."

My dress is tossed up over my back then and I feel the cold

lubricant being squeezed onto my behind in the cleft of my cheeks.

"No, please," I say but no one is listening.

I feel something rubbing around in the lubricant and then

pressing against my asshole. I've been taken this way before but I

don't like being forced. Particularly knowing that they aren't doing

it for my pleasure but only for their own. I clench my ass tightly,

grimacing with the effort, as I feel him probing at my backside.

He pushes me forward somewhat and the guy below me changes his

grip on my wrists to hold me further bent. His arms go around my back,

encapsulating my arms inside his hug.

"That's it," the boy behind says. "Yeah. I can get it in now."

I feel his thumbs pulling my asscheeks apart and again he's

probing me. Painfully, I feel his head opening my little sphincter

slowly as he pushes very hard. I can't withstand him and, to keep it

from hurting more than necessary, I relax the muscle as much as I can.

I feel him slide into me as he moans. "Oh, yeah. That's great!

Tight!"

"Well, get it in there, asshole," Billy says impatiently. The boy

pushes until I feel the front of his legs against my ass. He almost

pushes me off of Billy. He hunches upward into me and, for the first

time, I feel something filling both my holes completely. What a

feeling! I have to pant to catch my breath.

Peeling my eyes open, I look down into the grinning face of Billy

about two inches from my nose. He starts moving inside me and I bite

my lip with the feel of it. His grin broadens. Then the boy behind me

pulls out of my ass a long way and comes back into me. My mouth opens

with the intense feel of it and my eyes go out of focus.

His arms unwrap from my back and I have my hands again for the

first time in a long time. I put my hands on the grass to either side

of Billy's shoulders at arm length, essentially on all fours, and

start to move with their conflicting movements. When I do, I feel

Billy's hands on my swollen breasts.

"Ahh." I'm sure that was me. "Ahh. Ohh. Yes."

I open my eyes again and look down at Billy's grimace, his smile

now splitting his face as he feels the intensity of our joining. His

eyes are closed. Impulsively, I lower my mouth to his, my tongue

probing into him. One of his hands leaves my breast, though the other

stays, and comes to the back of my head. He holds my mouth to his and

pushes his tongue to the back of my throat. I suck on it as I feel my

orgasm nearing.

I'm moving between the two cocks as hard and fast as I can now,

sucking at his long tongue almost as if it were still another one. I

can hear the squishing between my legs and feel the saliva that covers

my lips and lubricates his mouth. I moan into his mouth as my orgasm

comes powerfully and my entire body clenches with it.

Like long time lovers, my orgasm triggers Billy's and, for the

first time, I feel a man's come pour into my new cunt. And then the

other boy's climax hits and, with a series of grunts, he deposits his

seed into my bowels.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck," he moans as we squeeze the last

of his climax from his body. Billy's tongue slowly retreats from my

mouth and with a little additional kiss, I raise up onto my extended

arms again.

"If you'd asked," I say, "I'd probably have done it with you. But

this was sort of different."

"Fuck you, honey. You loved it," he says with a silly grin.

"Yeah. Well." I grin at him. "You gonna lick me clean now so I

don't drip all the way home?"

"Fuck, no!" he yells, still grinning. He's squirming to get out

from under me now. I feel the boy behind me slide out of my ass and

roll onto the grass beside us.

"You?" I ask. He looks at Billy who only grins at him. I lift

myself off Billy's soft cock and crawl off him sideways, toward the

other boy. Catching his wrists, I move up until my legs are holding

his arms down. Then I lower my middle to his twisting face.

Billy is laughing so hard he can't stay still beside me as I rub

my ass and cunt in the boy's face roughly.

"I'll let you breathe if you lick it clean," I say to him as I

sit on his mouth and nose. I feel him nod quickly and lift up.

"Okay," he says breathlessly. When I lower most of the way toward

him this time, he bends his neck and begins licking from between my

legs to my still swollen clit. He's lapping up the come that is oozing

out of me. And at the same time, he's driving me upward into another

orgasm.

When his tongue protrudes and opens my recently punctured

asshole, my climax hits me powerfully and I feel my body spasming

around the volumes of come that cascade out of my holes and onto his

face.

"God damn, you're a hot bitch," Billy says from next to me on the

ground. When I look at him, his eyes are big and his mouth is open.

"Yeah. All woman, right?"

"Right," the boy below me says with a wide grin. I lean down and

kiss him hard on the lips with my hands on both of his sweet little

cheeks.

I love it. I'm really a woman!

Chapter 18

I WAS A little sore, a lot flushed, and late getting home. Linda met

me with, "Did you have problems?" There was real concern in her

voice. I could only smile. "Oh, I was just double raped," I thought to

myself but kept it there.

"No, huh uh. I just took the scenic route home."

"How was the doctor's then?" Still concern.

I remembered all that was new to her though it was at least once

removed for me.

"Great!"

"Well, tell me!"

"Sure. Well. She checked everything out." I

remembered. "Thoroughly. It's a total success, Linda." I smiled.

"Really?" She grinned then looked serious again. "A success? What

does that mean exactly?"

"It means that she tested everything she could test and it all

works."

"You can't have babies."

"No, of course not. That was never part of the deal. I don't have

the eggs or the fallopian tubes. You know that. I also don't have the

tiny lubrication glands." I thought about pulling out my tube of KY

jelly and decided that would only require an explanation as to why it

was half used. "What I do have is a more than ample pussy and a fully

functioning clitoris."

"How do you know that?" I wasn't quite ready to share all with

her so I sidestepped. Backtracked really to the doctor's office.

"She took measurements and said I was deep enough to accommodate

anyone I wanted."

"Clit," she stated. "How does she know --"

"Oh, there are ways." I grinned.

"You mean --"

"Yeah. I mean. She played with me and I had my first female

orgasm."

"Really?" She was smiling all over with excitement. "You had a

come?" I nodded with an answering grin. "What did it feel like? I mean

was it like before? Like as a guy?"

"Maybe a little. Maybe more intense. Really just a little painful

still. But satisfying." She clapped her hands and swung around in a

little circle as she cried out. "Better. She also played with my

nipples and I had a climax that way, too. I mean, I've sort of done

that before but I felt it all over this time. It was great!"

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Oh, wait," she said seriously again

as she looked at her watch. "Bill will be here to pick us up in less

than an hour. We've got to get on the ball. Come on!"

I followed her to the bedroom and watched as she pulled the

sweatshirt over her head, her breasts flopping on her chest

appealingly. Then she squiggled out of her shorts and panties with her

back to me. She is fantastically appealing when she's naked ... and

when she's dressed.

I walked to her then and put my arms around her from behind,

holding her against me. "I'm going to have trouble breaking this

habit," I sighed into her ear.

"Who said you had to? I sort of have a thing for you, too." My

hands were cupping her breasts, massaging them as her hands worked to

remove them. "But we've got to get ready. Com'mon. I'll start the

shower."

I was glad she went ahead so I didn't have to explain where my

panties were. I stepped out of my shoes before unfastening my skirt

and blouse. They smelled like sex and I noticed the spots on my skirt

and nylons. I even had grass stains on my blouse. Damn.

On my way by, I dropped them all in the hamper. I'd get around to

telling Linda about the afternoon before she or I did the wash. Naked,

I walked into the bathroom and opened the steaming door of the shower

to join her. She had soap in her hair and all over her face, her eyes

clenched shut. I massaged her scalp and then took the soap on my hands

to the juncture of her legs, rubbing it in there. She squirmed out of

my reach though her nipples instantly swelled to their maximum.

I started scrubbing my own body, though I would have rather done

hers and, when my hands were above my head and the soap in my eyes, I

felt her fingers find my nipple and more fingers find my clit. I

cringed and giggled and squirmed out of her reach just as she had to

me.

She got out and was dry and combing out her wet hair as I got out

and did the same thing. She was back in the bedroom by the time I'd

cleared out all the rats my shampooing had created.

When I got in the other room, she was standing in a pair of thigh

high stockings, black lace panties, and high heels and working with

some clothes on hangers.

"Bill sent us some more clothes," she said. "I think they're hot

off the presses in France. Top designers. Probably more than the

hundred and fifty bucks I'm used to paying, I'll bet."

"No doubt," I said.

"Here's yours. It has your name on it even." I nodded and watched

her squirm into a very tight sheath dress that topped under her arms

and hugged her shape to her mid-thighs.

"You ought to forget the panties," I suggested.

"Oh, no. If I do that, I'll have this thing wet either in the

front or back all night." It was a pretty dark blue material that, I

thought, would turn black anywhere it got wet. I agreed with her.

"Yeah, well. What's wrong with that?" We giggled again.

"You've got to wear pantyhose with your dress, baby," she

said. "There's not enough skirt if you don't."

I looked at the pile of clothing without understanding. Then I

picked it up and saw what she meant. I went to the drawer and found a

pair of pantyhose but then put them away and found the sheerest pair I

had. I knew, though I would be covered, they wouldn't really prevent a

view of anything. I sat on the edge of the bed and threaded them onto

my legs.

Then I took the dress off the hanger and unzipped the three

inches of zipper at the back. Even this, I thought, probably would be

under my butt. I stepped into it and pulled it up. Literally, the

front veed open in the center to below my waist. Two straps, starting

wide and narrowing, went up and around the back of my neck where they

snapped together solidly. The little zipper, when done up, came up to

about two inches below my waist in back.

If there had been more than about a square foot of the whole

dress, it would have weighed a ton. As it was, it weighed ounces and

covered everywhere with shining jewels. If one was real, this was a

very expensive dress. If they were all real, it was worth a

fortune. Most were light blue -- maybe sapphires but I hoped for glass

so I wouldn't have to watch all of them all night.

It was lined with silk and the jewels were flat. Otherwise this

would be an exceptionally uncomfortable thing to wear. This skirt was

just long enough to provide minimal cover as long as I stayed

standing. The second I sat down, it would cover nothing. The straps

covered my nipples and the surround areolas but damned little

else. Only the weight of the jewels held it down and in place. The

hipline was tight enough to clasp my body completely -- at least from

the middle of my tummy to my pussy, top of my ass crack to my

asshole. Not a hell of a lot more.

Sensuously, the rest of the outer skirt was a misty sort of

material I think is usually used by belly dancers doing the dance of

the seven veils. There, but only a suggestion. I walked across the

room to find a pair of shoes and the thing billowed behind me like a

magic carpet. And that fastened to little fasteners at the sides of my

hips. It covered nothing in front and draped almost to the hem of the

underskirt in back. It just pointed out how short the underskirt was.

I picked a pair of patent blue sling pumps with 4-inch heels to

go with it.

"What do you think for jewelry, Linda?" I asked. I looked down. I

glittered everywhere.

"It looks to me that the only thing that would work would be the

Hope Diamond on about a three foot long chain. Let it dangle over your

bellybutton," she said with a grin. Grinning back I looked in the

jewelry box and found a ruby Bill had given me that was about an inch

across on a chain that let it dangle right between my breasts.

"Like that?" She laughed.

"That's it exactly. With the earrings. Right?"

I got them out, too. They were on chains about two inches long

and the rubies were only half as big as the one between my

breasts. Matching, I suppose. Since the set came with an ankle

bracelet with an equal sized ruby on it, I put it on as well.

"I'll make drinks," I said as I walked to the living room and she

continued brushing out her hair. God it looked fabulous when it was

squeaky clean, like it was now, and flowed over her shoulders and onto

her back. She was making it frame her face like a lion's mane and it

looked incredibly sexy.

My own had dried now into its wild look that just fit the

outfit. I looked at it and left it alone.

I finished mixing our drinks and looked at myself in the hallway

mirror. What man could get away with shiny blue shoes, sparkling

jeweled clothes and filaments of material around his legs, blue tinged

eyes, red lips, and a halo of curly hair? I hated to say it myself

but, God I'm beautiful! Really! As an ex-man, I know. I'd fuck me in a

minute.

That thought, probably an unfortunate one, gave me an itch

between my legs I'd thought I'd overcome for a while.

"Good grief, Amy," I said aloud to myself. "Are you going to have

to get laid every hour on the hour?" Maybe, I thought with a smile.

"It sure looks like you're ready to in that outfit," Linda said

from beside me.

"Look who's talking," I grinned as I handed her her drink and

stepped aside so she could look at herself. She blushed as she did it,

recognizing, I'm sure, that what I'd said was true.

The doorbell rang and both of us almost jumped out of our skins

though Linda, staring into the mirror at herself, was the only one to

spill her drink. Standing only a foot away from the door, I turned and

opened it.

Bill stood with a bundle of flowers in his hand and a big smile

on his face. The smile dropped with his chin as his eyes scanned my

body from my eyes, where they had started, downward past the dangling

jewel to the hem of my underskirt to my ankles. It was almost

frightening.

"Hi! Come in!" I said brightly, feeling myself blush.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Hi." He didn't move. Now it was just very

flattering.

Under his scrutiny, I hadn't noticed the man beside him on the

steps. "Hi," I said, now including him in my broad inward gesture. His

eyes were doing the same thing to me Bill's were. I almost felt

violated. "Please come in!" I said with a little edge to my

voice. "It's a little chilly tonight."

They both shook themselves and, realizing what they'd been doing,

blushed and stepped into the house.

"Hi," Linda said beside me and bent close to Bill to give him a

quick kiss. "How's my favorite millionaire?"

"Great!" he exuded. "Fantastic! Better now than all the rest of

the day." Now he was getting it together again. "You look

unbelievable!" he said to her since her hand was still on his

arm. "Both of you. Breathtaking! Really."

"Hi," she said with more aplomb than the rest of us seemed to be

showing, as she put her hand out to the other man. "My name's Linda

and this is Amy."

"I'm sorry," Bill said, coming out of his trance. "This is

Brentwood Klevin Dunsworth the fourth. Better known to his friends as

Brent. Brent, this is Linda, ah, Amy's wife. And Amy. The girl I told

you about."

The tall, dark-haired man had been watching Bill as he spoke. But

when Bill said that, his head swivelled to me as if it had been jerked

around with a rope.

"You're --" He gulped. "I mean you were ... ah --"

"Yeah," I laughed and broke the stalemate. "I was the man until

two weeks ago. I'm not any more."

"My God!" he exclaimed. "I'll say you're not!"

"Thank you, I think."

He frowned and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Please excuse

me. I'm not normally quite as big an idiot as I must seem right

now. You just surprised me. I mean --"

"I understand," I said. "Or, at least I hope I understand. Won't

you two come the rest of the way in? Can I get you a drink?"

Now Bill came out of it. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he said as he put

his hand on my elbow. "I've known you for a while and should have

expected it. But, I just didn't. I mean, I've never ever seen anyone

look that fabulous in a dress. Stunning."

"I have to agree with that," Brent said.

I bowed slightly at the waist. "Thank you, gentlemen. The dress

buyer has very good taste."

"You picked these dresses out, Bill?"

"Yeah. But they didn't look like this on the hangers, I'll tell

you."

"I'm sure not." I asked then what they wanted to drink and made

each of them before delivering to their hands. Linda had finally

herded them to the couch and they sat waiting for me. I sat next to

Bill and carefully crossed my legs toward him, trying to keep at least

a little of my lap from being on view to everyone. I didn't know if I

had any success with Brent who sat directly opposite me in the

overstuffed chair.

"I brought Brent along tonight because I was pretty sure I'd need

some help with the two of you. Now I know why I did it. To protect

myself. The first crowd of guys we come close to are going to club me

to death and steal you away."

"Over my dead body," Brent said with a grin.

"Well, I felt fairly confident before. But now that's more than

just a little possible. And I think we can write off going to the

club. Those stuffed shirts would all have heart attacks. We'll have to

plan something else."

We sipped our drinks and talked for a few minutes.

"I've got an idea," Brent said. "There's a fairly new place over

in Saxony. I don't remember the name of it but I understand it's very

upscale, the entertainment crowd and all, but pretty young and

hip. Bill, you and I won't fit in worth a damn but no one is even

going to notice we're along. So it doesn't matter."

We all laughed. As we finished our drinks, we got ready to

go. Linda took a little clutch bag with both our lipsticks in it,

along with a hairbrush and our door key.

The men held our long coats for us and enjoyed the way Linda's

nearly naked leg came out of hers almost to the waist with every

step. Mine buttoned just above my knees so it was okay.

"Boy is some hat check girl going to get a surprise tonight."

We laughed. "I'm sure they've seen it all before," I said.

"I doubt they've seen this," Bill said. We naturally paired off

with Brent guiding Linda to the long black limo in front of us. Bill's

hand rested on the slope of my rump as we walked. The driver's eyes

followed Linda's legs as she sat down on the back seat and slid

across. Brent sat in one of the back-facing seats. I slid in beside

Linda and Bill sat next to me.

The door closed and the driver rounded to the steering wheel and

turned into the street.

"Alfred? Do you know the new place in Saxony?"

"I've heard of it, sir. I'm sure I can find it."

Brent opened the dropleaf bar front and mixed each of us one of

the drinks we had been having in the house. For the next half hour, we

chattered like nervous magpies.

"What am I thinking," Bill said then. "You had a doctor's

appointment today, didn't you?" I smiled and nodded. "So, how did it

come out?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "The doctor certified me."

"Certified you?"

"Yeah." I faked a genuflection in front of me. "I now pronounce

you female."

"Really? That's exciting," he stopped, looking at me. "But I

thought the minute you hit the operating table, or maybe when you left

it, that was certifiable."

"Well, there are the parts that make it a Porsche. But if it

doesn't run --"

"You mean she got you all tuned up?" We all laughed.

"Yeah, something like that. At least a short test drive."

"You mean --?"

I nodded and blushed. I could feel it on my face. Both of the men

stared at me.

"What'd she do? A few times around the roadtrack to test the top

end or just a quick spin around the block." We laughed again.

"Maybe more like having it up on the rack and fiddling with a few

controls." We all laughed again. The illusion was getting a little too

graphic. "Actually, more like she sat in the seat and said there was

more than enough headroom and played with the on switches and

everything turned on like its supposed to."

"Really!" Bill said through another burst of laughter. "That's

fantastic! You mean it all works like it's supposed to?"

"Just like the production models. Yup." I grinned at his pleasure

that I knew was for me.

"Hmmm. Maybe we'll have to take it out for a test drive later."

"We'll have to go slow for the break-in period. But then we can

check out the top end."

"Okay, you two," Brent said. "My motor's revving now over a

little blue convertible."

"I'm starting to lose what you guys are talking about but I think

I'm turned on anyway," Linda said. I saw that she was smiling and

staring into Brent's eyes. The look was very sensual and I envied

Brent. She licked her lips.

We pulled up in front of a large building and, immediately, the

back doors were opened. Brent went out one side and Bill the

other. They stood holding out their hands for us to take. I didn't

notice Linda, who was behind me getting out, but I had a hard time

keeping my coat down reasonably as I slid out. Then I had to spread my

legs obscenely to get to the ground. The valet had a smug look on his

face as he looked at me and accepted a twenty from Bill.

We walked to the door and a doorman opened it with a smile and

slight bow. A fully liveried maitre d' rushed toward us as we walked

across the expanse of red carpet in the huge entryway. He clasped his

hands together as he stood before us. To the left was a large, wide

open bar with short black leather chairs and small, round tables

backed by red felt-covered walls and crystal light fixtures that only

shed a minimum of light. Everyone seemed to be inspecting us. To the

right was a wide door into a chandelier-filled dining room.

"Mr. Dunworth, isn't it?" the maitre d' asked of Brent. He only

nodded. "Sir, it will be just a few moments before a table is ready,

would you mind waiting in the lounge?"

"No, of course not. We didn't make reservations, after all." He

passed the man a bill that looked like another twenty but it might

have been larger.

"Thank you, sir. May I help the ladies with their wraps?" We

quickly unbuttoned them and Bill grabbed the back of mine as I let it

drop off my shoulders. Brent did the same for Linda and both of them

put them over the maitre 'd's extended arm. He turned and snapped his

finger. A young man, staring at my legs, quickly came to him and took

the coats.

I tried to act like it didn't bother me that thirty pairs of eyes

were firmly stuck to my legs as I was displayed in the center of the

big room. Well, maybe only half the eyes were on my legs. The other

half were on Linda's.

The maitre 'd followed us to a table, pulled one chair out, and

held one of them for Linda. I couldn't help but be amused as he stared

at my legs as I sat down and crossed my knees firmly. God, I could

almost see between my legs myself! Certainly, everyone could see the

majority of the shapes of my breasts from the swell below them to the

way they bounded when I pulled up the chair.

"God, I love this," Brent said beside me. "I could rob the place

and no one would be able to identify me. But just basking in you two's

glory is enough. I wonder if there's anyone in this room who isn't

watching one or the other of you?"

"I doubt it," Bill said from my other side.

A woman bent over between Brent and I, placing napkins on the low

table. "What could I get for you?" Brent ordered for us, pointing each

of us out with our drink of choice. "Thank you," she said with a nod

and smile before leaving. Her outrageous cocktail waitress outfit

wasn't as daring as either Linda's or my dress. Of course, she had to

work in it. I was glad I didn't have to.

"So, you've been here, Brent?" Bill said.

"No," he said. "I guess the maitre 'd reads the business pages."

"Probably to his advantage," Linda said.

"Yeah. Assuming someone comes through the door every fifteen

minutes and gives him what I did, he makes about four hundred dollars

an hour. He probably makes more than I do." We all laughed, knowing

that wasn't true though I still didn't know him. I liked him as a

person but I really had never heard of him.

"Does everyone in the room know what you do except me?" Linda

asked quietly.

"Nope," I answered. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry ... again," Bill said. "I should have fully introduced

you. Brent is the 'D' in DTM Enterprises. You've heard of them,

right?"

In case Linda, for some reason, hadn't, I answered

quickly. "Movies, TV, imports, real estate, investments, etcetera,

etcetera, etcetera."

"That's him. Actually, what Brent? The 'T' is for 'takes' and the

'M' is for 'big money?' There really isn't anyone else in his

business. Him and a bunch of guys to count the money."

"Actually, about ten years ago, I had partners. Tad Tenson and

Jim Mahoney. But they decided we weren't doing well enough and jumped

ship. I had to steer on by myself."

"And they come around every couple of weeks and ask for their old

jobs back, right?" Linda said with a broad grin.

"No, not really. They did all right." His modesty was

pleasant. The last I heard he was in the running for the richest man

in the city. Maybe fourth or fifth now but possibly the pundits that

make up the lists didn't know all he had. "Anyway," he stated, coming

out of his contemplation. "We're here to have a good meal and, later,

some good fun. Right? We aren't going to worry about money."

He leaned toward me for agreement that I was more than ready to

give. In the process, however, he put his hand on my leg. I guess I

wasn't expecting it or, possibly, I'd just never had someone touch me

through only a single layer for very sheer nylon. It was almost like

an electric shock. I know I reacted to it. I jumped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he retrieved his hand from where it

was now poised above my leg.

"No. That's all right," I said quickly. "I guess I just wasn't

expecting it or something." God, I could still feel the warm imprint

of his palm on the top of my thigh. I'm certainly not used to a casual

touch that high on my thigh though, of course, it was all exposed.

"I didn't think. I'm really very sorry."

"No. It's not your fault. I'm just not used to being touched like

that."

"Oh, of course," he said as if it were a revelation. "You were a

man and no man would touch another on the thigh like that."

"I guess that must be it. And ... well, it's not very well

covered and I'm not used to that either." He grinned at me then and

relaxed. Then his hand came back down onto my thigh as I watched

it. When his hand touched me, it was much like the first time and then

he gently squeezed it before removing it again.

"I think you'd better get used to it," he said. "You have very

touchable legs." I smiled at the compliment. I couldn't be offended. I

glanced at Linda then and saw her grinning at me. Now I was just

embarrassed at my reaction. I was relieved when the waitress returned

with the drinks and everyone's attention shifted from me and my leg to

her.

"It will be on your dinner tab, sir," she said to Brent.

"Thank you."

We all leaned forward and picked up our drinks before sitting

back. Brent raised his to the rest of us. "Here's to a pleasant

evening," he toasted. We all drank with him.

"So," Bill interjected. "You had your doctor's appointment today

and everything works?" I nodded with a smile. I'd said that.

"Every time I hear of a woman going to the doctor," Brent said,

"I think of those stirrups and short green covers and shiny

instruments they stick in places I don't even have."

"That's about it," I said grinning. "Places I didn't have."

"Now this sounds interesting," Brent said as he drank. "What

exactly was the exam?"

"My final exam after the surgery."

"You mean you're all done?" Bill said. Linda opened her mouth to

say something as well. Probably the same thing. I hadn't told her.

"Uh huh. All certified. Like I said."

"Fantastic! Then we should be celebrating."

"To a miraculously total success," Brent said, toasting again. We

drank and I smiled, trying to cover my blush.

"What did she say? I mean, the muscles, ah, the, ah ... you

know."

"Everything's good, she said."

"How would they build a muscle there?" Brent asked. "That has to

be an important one. You know." He was making a grasping motion with

one hand that was all too graphic.

"It seems that every man has the rudimentary equipment of a

woman. Nature just adds on fallopian tubes, a womb, a cervix on a

woman; penis and testicles for a man."

"Was the surgery something like turning everything inside out?"

"Well, they used all the old skin. No leftovers. And they worked

real hard not to sever any of the nerves or heavy muscles. But it's a

little more complicated than that. Moving things around some."

"Cosmetically as well as functionally?"

"Yeah. I mean, it doesn't look exactly like a woman. But pretty

close, I guess. I mean I've only seen a few women. But it seems

right."

"Pubic hair and everything?"

"Well," I blushed again. "Not right now. They shave all that when

you go in for the surgery."

"I've seen that before without surgery. Sexy," Brent said with a

smile. I blushed again. Actually, the whole topic, that reminded me

of what was now between my legs, was making me uncomfortable. I found

that I was rubbing my legs together and that really wasn't helping

much. It was a new kind of itch that was too deep to scratch casually.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Bill said then. I followed his

eyes and saw that he was staring at my legs, my knee rising a few

inches and lowering again. I stopped and the itch intensified.

"I liked it," Brent said. "You know," he continued. "If I were

you, I could hardly wait to use it. To see what it's like."

For the first time in hours, I remembered the boys in the park

and reacted to the memory. Brent looked from me to Linda and back

again. "You two already tried it out?"

Linda shook her head. "Nope. Amy only got home a little before

you got there and we had to get dressed." But she was still looking at

me as I looked at my painted fingertips. I've always been a shitty

liar and can't even keep a secret at Christmas.

"You have, haven't you?" Linda said with a wondering grin. I

couldn't lie to her. I nodded. "I mean, besides the doctor playing

with you."

"Whoa," Brent said. "I hadn't heard about that."

"Well, how else would she have been able to tell it all worked?"

Linda asked him.

"Oh, yeah, I guess you're right. But go on. What else happened?"

I sighed and looked around at them. All of them were staring at me

expectantly.

"Well," I began and swallowed hard. "There were these two boys in

the park when I was walking home."

"You attacked a couple of kids in the park?" Brent said with a

laugh.

"No. Of course not." I paused to figure out how to state

it. "Actually, it was the other way around. And they weren't really

kids. Young men. Late teens, maybe."

"But maybe twelve," Brent said nastily.

"No. Really. And they made me."

"You couldn't have screamed or run away?" Linda said with a

little frown. I shook my head again.

"No. There wasn't anyone out there but them and me. At least that

could have heard me."

"But you really wanted to try it out anyway, right?" Brent

said. I don't think he understood what kind of trouble he could be

getting me into with Linda. I looked at her and, although she looked

pleasant, I could see she wasn't happy with me.

"Mike was an alley cat," she said then. "Never could keep it in

his pants. Now sweet little Amy is carrying on the tradition." Now I

knew she was getting pissed and that there was nothing I could do

about it. I was just in trouble.

"I really didn't want to do it, Linda. They forced me."

"Yeah. A rape in the park and you just waltz home and jump in the

shower."

"Lighten up, Linda," Brent said seriously. "It's no

problem. Obviously, she wasn't hurt. That's important. And if she

didn't use that beautiful body, it'd be a terrible shame."

"I can see your irritation with Mike playing around on you,

Linda. But what's the problem with Amy getting a little. Your legal

position has been dissolved, hasn't it?"

Linda nodded but she still wasn't happy. "I thought we loved each

other," Linda said softly. I got up and went around the table to her,

kneeling down and taking her hand.

"Of course we do, honey. But this was different. Really."

"I'm sure. It's always different. Now instead of it being

different girls with a guy thrown in on the side occasionally, it'll

be different guys with an occasional girl tossed in for good measure."

"Maybe, Linda. You know I'm a very sensual person. And I can't

promise anything. But you know I'll always love you and come home to

you." I looked into her eyes where they blurred with tears.

She put her arms around my neck and hugged me. I held her tight.

"I understand," she said finally into my ear. "I really do. It's

just that I was scared, I guess. That you'd leave me now."

"No, baby." I held her a little way away and looked into her eyes

until she smiled. I couldn't stand it any longer. I kissed her and she

responded as I'd hoped she would extending the kiss in both duration

and intensity further than I had expected. Finally she ended it and

really smiled into my eyes as she rubbed the back of my hair. "Are you

okay?"

"Fine." I stood up then and walked back to my chair and sat

down. That's when I noticed the silence in the room. You could have

heard a pin drop and, once again, absolutely everyone in the room was

staring at me. Worse, they were open-mouthed staring.

I blushed as I realized what had just happened. Brent broke the

silence.

"That's the most incredibly sexy thing I've ever seen," he said.

"Me, too," Bill said from the other side of me. "Two beautiful

women in that kind of embrace. Wow!"

"I think everyone else in the room agrees," Brent said as he

looked around at all the faces. Now they were beginning to turn to

each other.

Two men got up to leave then, walking just behind me. One said,

"Such a waste. Fucking lesbians."

My mouth dropped in disbelief. Then I looked at Brent, then

Linda, and finally Bill. All were fighting back laughter. Then I saw

it and the humor overwhelmed me. We all laughed until I felt the burn

of mascara in my right eye. Tears of laughter were streaming down my

face and I could see Linda's mascara running down beside her nose as

well.

She got up then and came around the table, holding out her hand

to me. "Come on, lover," she said fairly loudly. "Let's go fix our

faces." I took her hand and, for the benefit of our vast audience and

to Brent and Bill's great enjoyment, put my arm around her waist for

our walk into the restroom.

Chapter 19

IT TOOK A little while for us to wash the streaked mascara from our

cheeks and rearrange the remnants. Then new lipstick and a brush

through our hair made it right again. We talked as we cleaned up and

Linda was now ready to listen as I told her about the encounter in the

park with the two boys.

"I should still spank your bottom," she said finally. "If you'd

really wanted to stop them, you could have."

First, I tried to claim I hadn't been a woman for long enough to

know all the techniques of turning guys down. That really didn't work

because, as she reminded me, a guy's methods of discouraging something

like that would probably have worked as well or better. She finally

accepted that I needed some sort of experience like that with my new

body. In addition, we came to an understanding about the differences

in our lives now that I was truly female. Our relationship had to

change to a more sisterly one or, possibly, very best friends. And

that precluded marital jealousy. We turned back to the lounge.

Brent and Bill popped up when we reappeared and met us near the

open entry of the lounge. The maitre d' had called us to a table. But

Brent couldn't leave it alone.

Rather loudly, he said, "You did what? Right here in the

restroom?" Linda hit him and grinned through her embarrassment. I

looked back at him with a devilish grin. Over his shoulder, I saw a

dozen heads turn to their partners in surprise or disgust or with

knowing grins.

The maitre d' met us at the entrance of the dining room and led

us across its expanse. Shining white linen, burgundy napkins,

sparking crystal and flatware, silver edged plates. Many heads came up

to watch us as we walked the full length of the room. I could feel the

way Bill's hand rode on the naked skin of my lower back, just above

the top of the skirt. It felt very nice.

The maitre 'd seated us at a table with a booth-like bench on one

side and chairs on the other. I scooted into the bench so I could

watch the people in the room for a change instead of being watched,

leaving Linda and Brent to sit with their backs to the room.

The cold leather almost took my breath away as I sat on it fully

and again when I leaned back on the soft leather back. But it quickly

warmed and felt as sensual as a warm body next to yours.

As Brent arranged for wine during dinner and another round of

drinks, Bill leaned very close to my ear and whispered. His breath in

my ear turned me on.

"Your story about the park got me so excited I can hardly wait

until I can do some exploring of my own," he whispered. I turned my

head and spoke as softly in his ear.

"I'll let you put your finger in my pussy if I can put my finger

in yours," I said. He giggled and blushed. He returned to my ear.

"Maybe something a little bigger than my finger," he said.

"Sorry I can't reciprocate on that any more."

"No problem. The last few times you did just fine." He let his

tongue find my earlobe for a quick lick. I cringed at the cascade of

chills that sent down my back.

When I turned my mouth to his ear this time, I said nothing. I

just let my tongue find the opening of his ear for a second and

watched him cringe. Turnabout.

"Okay, you two. Everyone will talk," Brent said with a grin. He

was looking right at us, as was Linda. Now with a big smile on her

face. As if he hadn't thought of it, he turned to Linda's ear, putting

his hand up to the side of his cheek like a megaphone. Linda nodded

once then smiled and nodded again.

As he put his hand down, she turned to his ear and

whispered. Then I saw her tongue in his ear as mine had been with

Bill. I grinned and realized, as Bill put his hand on my thigh, that I

was rubbing my legs together again. She didn't stop after a second as

I had and Brent began to squirm in his chair before he couldn't stand

it any more and pulled his head away. I knew from experience how

talented Linda's tongue is. I've even seen her tie a knot in a piece

of spaghetti with it.

She smiled with satisfaction at her ability to get to him before

he turned slightly in the chair and brushed her long hair off her

ear. Again he cupped his hand on his cheek as if he were sharing a

secret that no one else could know. I saw Linda's eyes glaze and then

close. Her whole body gave a little shudder then. Finally, she pulled

her head away from him with a huge shudder than went throughout her

body.

"Oh, you've got to stop that!" she said, looking at him. "It

drives me wild!"

"Good," he said from very near her cheek. He looked at me with a

little grin. "We'll have to take advantage of that knowledge in a

little while. I like wild a lot."

When Bill had put his hand on my leg, I'd stopped rubbing them

together. With a sigh, I realized, even though he hadn't moved his

hand, I was still rubbing them together. What's worse, the cocktail

waitress had come with our drinks and gone again and it didn't

register at all on my consciousness.

Worse, Bill's hand wasn't still. He was rubbing back and forth

across my thigh. High on my thigh. Almost at the hem of the very short

underskirt. It stopped moving, wrapped around my thigh. He leaned to

my ear again.

"I changed my mind," he whispered. "I can't wait."

He turned away and picked up his drink with the other hand. Then

his hand moved around my thigh until I could feel the fingers between

my legs. It moved up until they contacted the conjunction over the

sheer pantyhose. Again he leaned to my ear.

"Uncross your legs, Amy," he whispered. I clenched them together

tighter and shook my head. I turned to his ear.

"We've already got people talking about us. Not here, okay?" He

turned back to my ear, holding the drink glass to the side of his face

nearest the room.

"Uncross your legs or we'll have to leave right now." Then his

tongue wrapped around my earlobe again and his teeth captured it

between them. My leg rose, as it had been before when rubbing, and his

hand slid between them.

"Please, Bill," I whispered, my eyes closed now. Then his fingers

found my clit under the pantyhose and I bit my lip. The way his hand

insinuated itself tightly between my legs, my calf slipped off my