From: fundipity@yahoo.com Subject: Eve (TG) by Lauren Westley
EVE -- Part 8
By Lauren Westley
All disclaimers are in force. This is just a work of fiction and for the enjoyment of those who are old enough to read it. It is mature subject matter. None of the characters are real. (fundipity@yahoo.com)
Chapter 22 -- Four Months Later
I thought I was happy but over the four months at the cabin I realized I knew who I was. There was no Steve, only Eve.
Billy was very nice. Never tried anything. I asked Billy how he could afford not to work. He said he had put some money away and was glad he wasn't working for the weird Mr. Adam anymore.
"In the spring I'll be able to find plenty of work and I'm not worried about Mr. Adam. He wouldn't dare do anything after what I know and wrote down. Also, I don't know where you are going so, I couldn't tell him anyways. Someday I'll anonymously call law enforcement."
As I said before, Billy was a good man.
One day in March Billy said he thought he could drive out and take me to a bus station. He handed me an envelope with $350. I bundled up, especially since I only had bra, panties, and a sundress. I wore both his mom's sweaters and her boots as well as the parka Billy had brought me when we escaped Mr. Adam.
I got a bus to Billings and from there a Greyhound New Orleans. The $350 Billy gave me paid for my ticket and food over the two plus day journey. When I arrived in New Orleans, I had $112 left and only the clothes I was wearing, which amounted to a sun dress, sweaters, coat and boots.
I was clean but I looked like shit. At the bus stop a woman came up to me and asked if I needed a place to stay. Of course, I said yes.
The time at the cabin gave me an insight into many things. First, I knew I was a submissive transvestite who liked men. Mr. Adam taught me that. Second, I didn't want to be a slave, but I liked sex. And where better to get lost and find myself than New Orleans.
Somewhere there would be a man who would use me sexually. Take me to extremes. I craved that in my dreams.
The woman, Cindy, drove me in her 10,000-year-old Honda. The outside looked totaled, and the inside made a garbage bin look neat. There were numerous cigarette butts on the unknown mutilated well with burn holes everywhere in front of my seat. But Cindy was a lifesaver.
"What's your name Honey," Cindy asked?
"Eve," I replied.
"Well Eve, where we are going is not fancy but it's cleaner than my car and there is food."
"Thanks for picking me up."
"No problem darlin' but you are a trannie, right?"
"Yes."
For the next fifteen minutes we talked till we came to a rundown house with empty lots. Like a place that would premier on "Lifestyles of the poor and downtrodden." But I wasn't complaining.
Now you don't need to know everything about the next week, but I did eat, sleep and shower. Cindy didn't live here. She had some time ago but had moved on. I never asked her what she did now. And I didn't see her again after she dropped me off.
There were conversations with the house marm. When I told her what I wanted she said she may be able to fulfill my request.
Willie came to meet me and said he'd make me beautiful again. I'm not dumb and he was up front with me I'd be working as a sex girl. But you figure, where would I get the money for new clothes, hair, makeup and (of course I eventually knew) estrogen shots.
He said I should call him Mister Willie. That wasn't a problem. Mister Willie was an amazing specimen of a man. His dark chocolate skin looked delicious.
And I said to Mister Willie, I will not do drugs. He agreed.
Yes, I know so many people think all the sex workers are captured. Thrown in a room. Addicted to heroin and then forced to work. Well, some are but not most. Many do it because they don't need an MBA to earn much more than pushing the French fry button on a McDonald terminal.
I was doing it for a reason many others did it also. Sexual satisfaction, clothes, money and curiosity. How many men and women are living with someone for the clothes, money and not getting the other two. Hell, that's like ordering an ice cream cone and being satisfied when all you get is the empty cone.
Chapter 22 -- Rising Up
Mister Willie had a nice `crib' in a step-up neighborhood from where I had been staying. He said once I was all beautified, he'd move me into a small apartment. His girls didn't work the streets. Their jobs were usually in hotels and private homes. Many had regulars. Also, unlike the movies, he didn't hit his girls. Instead, each girl was given a production quota. If they missed the quota three times in three weeks, they were out. Simple. Just like working at Goldman Sachs.
Each girl was independent to some degree. They took vacations. Took personal time as well. Mister Willie said if you exceeded your quota your percentage of the take went up. But he didn't differentiate between those meeting the quota and those exceeding it.
This was a business. He didn't say how many were working for him and whether he had men as well as girls. But he did tell me he'd buy me a good cell phone. And there was a personal file I could access. It was updated daily showing how much I earned and what my take was. Once the upfront costs were paid for and I had excess cash he'd show me how I could open a bank account and move then money over securely to myself.
Mister Willie said I was the first `trannie' he had ever decided to hire but there would be big demand for me.
There were many more things we talked about over the next week. During this time, I had my hair and nails done. Started electrolysis to permanently remove all my body hair. He liked the pink landing strip which needed work having been neglected for four months.
Mister Willie explained I was to go regularly to get my nails and hair done as well as continue the electrolysis. When I started working, I would be given the hours I needed to be available within one hour. If I worked at night, I wouldn't have morning or lunch hours.
And thus, my new adventure began.