By Robin O.
Part 8:
It was almost 4 p.m. when I finally dragged my weary, naked body out of bed, grabbed my white terry cloth robe and walked tentatively to the bathroom. The house was quiet. Mom and Dad must have gone out. I needed a shower, and my eyes half open, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. The weight I had lost off my slim frame in the last month was evident in the deep concave from my ribcage to my waist and hips. I could see right away that my breasts were all puffy and my nipples, raw, sore and extended. My arms at my sides, I turned my body -- a bit too femininely for my liking, with my slender right shoulder moving forward toward the mirror -- and saw that Stan's bite mark on that shoulder hadn't totally disappeared. More distressing was looking down and seeing Stan's dry, crusty sperm on my lower back and tight bottom.
The horrible events of the previous day washed over me along with the hot spray of the shower. In a span of 16 hours, Mr. Wallace, Dr. Phillips and Stan had all used me for their pleasure. Those three men had their tongues in my mouth, their penises inside me, and I had for one reason or another ultimately surrendered to each of them like a helpless girl. Something within me felt almost flattered that I had been considered so desirable, that each man had been so turned on by me, that they had all acted so lustfully and cum inside me or on me. But I hadn't wanted to have sex with any of them, I mean .... not really ... not at first ... not uintil they started putting their hands on me, caressing my shoulders, kissing my neck and back ... and my mouth.
I made the water almost scalding hot and let it run over my slender, aching body. I gingerly fingered and let the water clean out my poor, battered rectum. When I closed my eyes, I saw Mr. Wallace's unseeing eyes, his mouth open and drooling as his corpse held me captive. I was so ashamed of myself for what I had done with his inert body. An array of faces flashed in my mind: Mr. Wallace, Mr. Maddox, Gary, the store clerk, the moustachioed mailman, Mr. Blanchard, the absurd Dr. Phillips, Stan ... and finally Mr. Drummond. What was it about Mr. Drummond that made me feel just a little bit better when I thought of him?
I had determined last night that I was through being humiliated by men, that I wanted only to go back to being Bill, the 18-year-old horny teenage boy I was before Mr. Wallace caught me jerking off at work. Now, it was time to do just that. I got out of the shower, dried my body with a towel -- not too tenderly, despite how sore my nipples were -- and put on my bathrobe. Looking at myself in the mirror as the mist cleared away, I thought about moving the robe one more time just off my slim shoulders ... but no! No more! From now on, I'm a man, and a man I'll remain forever.
When I got back to my room, I noticed that last night I had been so exhausted -- mentally and physically -- that I had merely dumped the bag of feminine clothing and shoes from Mr. Wallace's house onto the floor near my bed. Still in my robe, I put the bag behind a box in my closet, right next to the bag containing the schoolgirl outfit I had worn the previous week. I figured I'd find the right time to get rid of all the girlie stuff in the next few days.
I got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, then raided the refrigerator. I was ravenous. I didn't remember the last time I had eaten. I spent the rest of the day and evening taking it easy, resting my weary, sore body, playing video games and catching up on Facebook with my high school buddies in their first year of college. Mom and Dad had gone out to dinner and a movie. When they came back, Dad told me again to call them next time I would be staying out later than usual. I told them I would. I went to sleep early, and felt much better when I woke up Monday morning. My breasts weren't so puffy, and while my sore nipples still reminded me of what they had been through, they were healing rapidly. I tried not to think about Dr. Phillips and whether he would be able to track me down after I stand him up on Saturday.
Following Mr. Drummond's instructions, I called in sick to work and told them I didn't think I'd be in until Wednesday, at the earliest. The woman at the security guard company said that would leave them shorthanded because my supervisor wouldn't be in. For some reason, she didn't say "Mr. Wallace" or inform me that he was deceased. I told her that I was sorry they were shorthanded, but I can't help being sick. She got huffy, said to call her when I felt better, then hung up on me.
I hadn't done much swimming since graduating from high school, but I went to the YMCA and gave myself a good workout. It felt great to use those muscles again. My body, even more slender now than when I was competing, cut through the water with ease. It was also great to look at some of the pretty girls in the pool and feel like a horny teenager again. Each hour that passed that day, I felt more and more like Bill. Billie was fast becoming a distant memory. That night, I went out with my parents for Chinese food. It was great to just be their son and talk about plans to go away to college less than a year from now.
The next afternoon, I got dressed in my one and only suit and went to the office building address that was on Mr. Drummond's business card. The law office was a large suite in a big office building. After I told the pretty receptionist that I had an appointment with Mr. Drummond, she told me I could go right in. Mr. Drummond was standing by his desk hurriedly putting some papers into a briefcase. When I walked into his office, he looked at me for a second or two, seemingly wondering who I might be, then he smiled.
"Billie?" he said. "I didn't recognize you there for a second. My goodness, you look so different."
I'm pretty sure my face turned red. For a fleeting moment, I flashed back momentarily to how attracted I had been to Mr. Drummond and how he has come to my aid on Saturday, but in my blue suit, I was feeling masculine and quickly dismissed such thoughts.
"It's 'Bill,' Mr. Drummond," I said. "Not Billie. Not anymore, OK?"
"Sure ... Bill," he said, and resumed putting papers into his briefcase. "Look, I haven't heard anything from the coroner's office, so it looks like we pulled off our little deception the other night. It appears we're in the clear as far as Ted's death is concerned. After the funeral Thursday at St. Mary's, we can put all this behind us."
All I did was nod. I knew the reason Mr. Drummond hadn't heard anything from the coroner's office. But I had determined that I wasn't going to tell him anything about what happened with Dr. Phillips. I probably should have, but I didn't want Mr. Drummond, who had been so kind and classy with me, to know how I had debased myself with the horrid medical examiner.
"Bill," he said. "I owe you an apology. There are a few details we still have to discuss, but there's an emergency and I've got to catch a plane to Chicago. That's where our main offices are located. I'll be back tomorrow. Could you meet me here about 3 p.m. tomorrow?
I was a little unnerved, but smiled and said that as long as he didn't mind seeing me in the same suit, I supposed I could come back tomorrow.
"I'm really sorry," he said. "But you're not the only person I'm disappointing. My goddaughter is visiting on a break from college, and I'm supposed to take her out to dinner tonight."
Mr. Drummond's bearded face lit up.
"Wait a minute," he said enthusiastically. "Billie ... I'm sorry ... Bill ... would you do me a huge favor?"
After all Mr. Drummond had done for me, there was no way I could say "no."
"Tina, my goddaughter, doesn't know anyone in this town," he said. "Would you do me a huge favor and take her out to dinner tonight?"
I shrugged and said, "I guess so," and Mr. Drummond picked up his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons.
"Tina?" he said into the phone. "It's Uncle Nathan, honey. Look, I know I just got off the phone with you a few minutes ago, but I feel rotten about leaving you all alone for dinner."
He paused a few seconds to listen, then spoke again.
"No, sweetie, it's not all right. A friend of mine, Bill ..."
Mr. Drummond covered the phone with his chest and asked me my last name. I told him, "Donahue."
"Donahue," he said with a smile. "Bill Donahue, he's a good friend of mine. He'll take you out to dinner tonight. You'll like him."
He paused again to listen.
"Yes, Tina, I know this isn't the first time, and you didn't have fun the last time I was called away," He looked at me and smiled. "But I think you'll like Bill. Look, just have dinner. You've got to eat, don't you? OK. Good. I've made reservations at La Marseillaise. Dress nice or I'll tell your parents on you."
Mr. Drummond winked at me and smiled, hearing his goddaughter giggle at his empty threat.
"I'll see you tomorrow when I get back from Chicago," he said. "What's that? Yes, OK. Now that I stood you up again I owe you a new dress, you little con artist. I've got to catch a plane. Be a good girl. OK. Me, too. Bye."
Mr. Drummond put his cell phone away and reached into his pocket for his billfold. He peeled off three $100 bills and handed them to me, telling me that the French restaurant where he had made reservations was expensive.
"Bill," he said, "I really appreciate this. Any money left from this evening, you keep."
Mr. Drummond gave me Tina's room number in the best hotel in town, then thought a moment and peeled off another two $100 bills and thrust them into my hands.
"Tina's very special to me, Bill," he said. "Her father's my best friend. I drove her mom and dad to the hospital when she was born, and I've watched her grow up. It makes me feel better that she won't be alone for dinner tonight."
I said I would try to be good company for her, and Mr. Drummond smiled.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Bill," he said as he led me out his office door. "Thanks again for doing this."
Driving to the hotel, I wondered what Tina would look like. She's in college, Mr. Drummond said, so she's going to be older than me. I just hope she's not too creepy. I chafed in my suit and hoped I wouldn't make a fool of myself by eating with the wrong fork or something in that fancy French restaurant.
My mom's car was probably the oldest one the valet parking attendants saw all day. I told them I'd be right out, and they moved it off to the side instead of taking it to the parking lot. Tina's suite was a long ride up the elevator to the penthouse. I figured a college student couldn't afford a room like that, and that Mr. Drummond was footing the bill. I made sure my necktie was straight, adjusted my blonde pony tail and knocked on the door, a little nervous about what to expect.
The door opened, and all my breath left my body. Tina was stunning. An inch or two shorter tham me. Long, straight black hair, slender, curvy body, the top of her perky breasts peeking out of a low-cut, expensive-looking, blue, sleeveless V-neck dress. Her slender, stockinged legs in the short dress went on forever down to her black 4-inch heels. She looked at me and broke into a wide smile.
"YOU'RE Bill Donahue?" she asked incredulously.
I nodded, probably looking young and dumb.
Tina took my right hand in both her hands and drew me into the room..
"I am SO happy to see you," she said with a big smile. "Uncle Nathan didn't say you were a young, cool guy. Look at your hair. It's so beautiful. I'm so jealous!"
This gorgeous woman didn't have to be jealous of anyone for anything. She laughed and gave me a quick hug.
"You should see the old guys Uncle Nathan has pawned me off on for dinners over the years when he was too busy to see me," she said. "Icky old guys, and I'd have to sit through a boring dinner at that fancy French restaurant Uncle Nathan likes so much."
"You don't like that restaurant?" I asked, surprised that I was able to speak.
"Would you mind terribly if we didn't go there tonight?" she asked, again taking my right hand in both of hers. "I'm just dying for a burrito, and maybe a movie. Would that be OK?"
She smelled like lilacs, and she wasn't only beautiful, she was nice. Tina made me feel like a co-conspirator in a plot to thwart Mr. Drummond's plans for her this evening. I stammered that anything she wanted was fine with me.
"Oh, you're a doll," she said, smiling. "Give me a minute to change. I feel like a freaking debutante in this outfit."
I stood there stunned as she disappeared into the bedroom portion of the suite. Here was this amazing college girl, at least three years older than me, and she didn't seem disturbed that she'd be going out with a kid just out of high school.. She actually seemed happy to be with someone younger.
About 10 minutes later, she emerged wearing a sleeveless, fuzzy, beige high-neck halter sweater with a hint of a bare midriff over a short jean skirt, bare legs and calf-high felt boots.. I had never seen anything so sexy and beautiful.
"Do I look OK?" she asked.
What came out of my mouth was more of a tortured gurgle than anything intelligible. My face felt flushed, and I was nodding vigorously.
"You know, Bill" she said, "If I'm going informal, you should, too. That tie has got to go."
Tina sidled up close to me and slowly unwound the knot in my necktie as her playful hazel eyes locked on my confused ones. I could smell her light perfume. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I wanted to put them on her bare skin so much, but I figured that would be the end of our date. Finally, she teasingly slid the tie off my neck, folded it neatly and femininely and put it into my jacket pocket. She looked at me, then smiled and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my white shirt..
"There," she said. "I'll have the coolest date in town tonight."
She went to the closet and put on a gray trenchcoat, tying it snugly around her waist. I never knew a trenchcoat could be so sexy. It clung to her tight curves, leaving her knees and calves bare so that if you didn't know better, you'd think she was nude underneath it. Her long black hair trailed behind her as she grabbed her small purse, took my elbow and led me out of the room.
I was pretty sure my feet never hit the ground as we made our way to the elevator where two men in business suits and a middle-aged woman were inside when we went in. The men's eyes explored Tina from head to toe. As far as they were concerned, I was invisible. I had a fleeting thought, wondering if the men would have been so disinterested in me if I had been wearing makeup and the schoolgirl outfit I had on a couple of weeks ago. The same thing happened when we walked through the crowded hotel lobby. I may as well not to have been there at all. Every set of eyes -- male and female -- seemed to follow her every step as we walked to the revolving doors. If Tina noticed, she gave no indication, chatting with me as we made our way to my mom's car. I started to apologize for how old the car was, but she shushed me, put a slender finger to my lips, smiled and said it was fine.
I opened her door for her, stole a quick look at her legs as she sat down and quickly went around the car, gave the attendant two dollars, sat down in the driver's seat, put on my seat belt, and we were off. Tina crossed her legs and I tried really hard not to look at them as I drove toward my family's favorite Mexican restaurant a few miles away.
"So," I said, trying to make conversation, "you call Mr. Drummond, 'Uncle Nathan.' He didn't tell me you were his niece."
Tina giggled.
"Oh, he's not really my uncle," she said. "I've just called him that ever since I was a little girl because he and my parents were so close and he was around the house all the time. I had the biggest crush on him when I was 13 or 14, can you believe that?"
"Yes," I said, my mind wandering for a moment back to when I wanted so much for Mr. Drummond to kiss me, and he wouldn't. "I can believe that."
We got to the little, out of the way Mexican restaurant, and when Tina oozed out of her trench coat and sat down, I couldn't believe I was with such a pretty woman. All through dinner, Tina seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, making me feel important. I rattled on about high school and my friends and my uncertainty about where to go to college, and she didn't act bored at all. I finally realized that I was talking too much and asked her if she minded very much Mr. Drummond being called away tonight.
"Absolutely not," she said, touching my sleeve. "You're incredibly good company. So much better than Uncle Nathan's older friends. Would you believe that when I was 15, one of them grabbed my bare knee under the table at that French restaurant?"
"Really?" I said. "When you were 15? How old was this guy? What did you do?"
"Oh, he was in the service with Uncle Nathan," Tina said. "Probably he was about the same age, except because he was fat, he looked even older. I'll never forget, it was the first time anyone ever came on to me that way. His name was Mr. Blanchard. I think his first name was Dennis."
I started to cough as my enchillada got caught in my throat. Mr. Blanchard? The same Mr. Blanchard who had copped a feel on me that Saturday? It had to be. There couldn't be two Mr. Blanchards who were Mr. Drummond's war buddies.
"You'll wouldn't believe," Tina said, "what pigs older men can be."
"Oh," I said, still recovering from swallowing my enchalada the wrong way and remembering the events of the last few weeks, "I wouldn't find that hard to believe at all."
"I was so surprised at this fat, sweaty, old man's hand on my knee that I didn't know what to do," Tina said. "I just sat there and let him keep his hand there, and then he moved it up onto my thigh.... and I spilled my Coke all over his suit."
Tina giggled at the memory.
"I told him that I was sorry, that it was an accident, but I don't think he believed me. I told him I had a headache and that if it was all right with him that I wanted to leave. On the drive to the hotel, he casually moved his right hand over and played with my skirt. My body was pressed against the opposite door. He said he wanted to stop off at his house on the way so he could change his shirt. I was only 15, so I didn't know that was an excuse to get me alone. But I was smart enough to stay in the car when we got to his house instead of going inside. He tried to talk me into coming in, and he wasn't happy when I said I was fine in the car. He didn't say anything to me the whole way back to the hotel."
Tina moved her right hand over my left across the table, giving it a gentle rub.
"It's so nice," she said, "to be with a gentleman tonight."
After dinner, we went to see a movie. After taking off her trenchcoat, she started out holding my hand in the dark theater, and I thought things couldn't possibly get better. Then, she took my right hand, moved it around her bare shoulders and cuddled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Her soft arm felt so good as I timidly squeezed it every now and then. After several minutes, as her body rested against mine, her long fingernails absently scratched against the top of my right thigh. I didn't know if she could tell, but my small penis was rock hard. It wasn't much of a movie, but I was really sorry when it ended and we got up to leave.
The ride back to the hotel was much too short. When we arrived, I was uncertain whether to have the valets park my mom's car or if she wanted me to walk her to her suite.
"Have them park it for you, Bill," Tina said. "If you don't mind, I could use some company."
Mind? I wouldn't mind keeping this incredible woman company for the rest of my life. The lobby wasn't as crowded as when we left, and when we got to the elevator, it was empty. When the doors closed behind us, Tina pulled my jacket lapels toward her and kissed me tenderly. It was an amazing kiss. I was so surprised that I could barely return it.
"Mmmmm," she murmured. "I've been wanting to do that all night."
After we reached the penthouse floor, Tina took my hand as we walked to her door. As soon as we were inside, she took off her trenchcoat, let it fall to the floor and crossed her slender, bare arms around my neck. My hands went to her bare midriff and I experienced the softest, most tender kiss anyone could imagine as she opened her mouth and ran her tongue over my upper lip. I couldn't believe this was happening. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, but as we kissed, Tina pressed her body against mine and started to moan softly, so I thought I must be doing OK.
After about a minute, Tina broke our kiss, put my right hand on her covered left breast and kissed me again. It was the first female breast I had ever touched, and it felt amazing.
"I'm going to change my clothes," she said. "Why don't you call your parents and tell them you won't be coming home tonight."
I nodded dumbly as she turned and disappeared into the bedroom. I found a phone in the suite and called home, telling Mom that I would be spending the night with one of my friends. She said that was OK and thanked me for calling.
A few minutes later, Tina stood in the bedroom doorway wearing only a tiny white teddie.
"I hope you don't think I do this with every man I meet," she said. "You're just such a nice guy, and I haven't met too many nice guys lately."
Tina slowly backed into the bedroom, motioning me to follow. She hopped up on the bed playfully and watched with a gentle smile as I rushed to remove my shoes, jacket, shirt and pants. I stood there in my black socks and white jockey shorts, my small penis straining inside.
"I'm not ... you know ... very big ... you know ... down there," I said to her, more than a little defensively.
"That doesn't matter," she said, giggling. "You've got an incredible body. It's so sleek. There's not an ounce of fat on it. I wish I had your skin tone, and I think your waist is even thinner than mine. Come here, silly."
I pulled my underpants off, moved my body atop hers, and we began kissing again, my hands clumsily exploring her body under her teddie. My mind was a blur, but I realized one thing: "I'm going to get laid."
Tina moved her teddie slowly over her head and off her body, and there were her firm breasts right in front of me. My mouth went to them, teasing with my tongue and teeth. This is what I had feverishly dreamed of all through my teenage years. I hoped I was doing it right. She opened her legs and I got between them. I pressed my lips against hers, and soon our tongues were playing. She was there under me, ready to be taken.
There was just one thing wrong. My penis had gone soft.
Here I was with the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen ... and I couldn't get it up.
I moved off of her and started to apologize. She shushed me.
"It's OK," she said. "You just might need a little help."
Tina gently got me onto my back, moved so sexily onto her knees between my legs and gently grasped my soft four inches while planting tender, wet kisses on my hairless chest. It felt so good, but my damned penis got no harder. With the kindest smile I've ever seen, Tina bent over and took me into her lovely mouth, her hair falling over her face. It felt so wonderful.
But still, I couldn't get hard. It didn't help to remember that the first time I was at Mr. Wallace's house, I got hard the instant he put his lips on my penis.What was wrong with me?
Tina kept up her amazing sucking for a very long time, but finally gave up.
It was so terribly embarrassing. I apologized over and over again.
Tina put her arms around me and gave me a tender kiss.
"It's OK," she said. "I'm told it happens to all men sometimes. Besides, there are other ways to please a woman."
With that, Tina lay back and spread her legs. I noticed for the first time that she had shaved her pubic hair. She gently grabbed my pony tail and moved my face to the first pussy I'd seen since I was born. It smelled kinda strange, and when I licked it, it tasted terrible. I began licking rapidly and moving my tongue inside like I had read about in all those porn magazines and websites. Somewhere, I had heard that if you draw the alphabet with your tongue, it drives women crazy.
Tina seemed to be enjoying it, breathing hard and moaning, but it smelled awful and tasted worse. I kept it up as long as I could, but I wasn't the least bit horny while doing it, and finally stopped.
"I'm sorry," I said as I plunked down next to her on the bed. I was so ashamed of my poor performance, I almost started to cry.
"It's fine," Tina said, grazing my smooth chest with her fingernails. "You're probably just a little tired. It's all right. Bill, I'm just curous, though. Is this your first time with a woman?"
I thought I was going to cry. I nodded, "yes."
Tina smiled kindly. "I understand," she said, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "We can try it again in the morning."
Tina put her teddie back on. I got under the covers naked. Still ashamed of myself, I turned my back to Tina and tried to sleep.Why had I gotten so turned on by those old, ugly men, but I couldn't keep an erection with the most beautiful, sexiest woman I have ever seen. A few moments later, Tina snuggled against me. I could feel her firm breasts against my back, her hands moving on my sides, her sweet breath at my neck.
"You're so smooth," she whispered. "I just love your hair, and you have such a wonderful body. It's so nice, almost like being with another girl."
Like another girl? I didn't know how to feel about that. She kissed my back, then turned over and went to sleep.
I hoped the morning would bring my virility back. When I woke up, I felt something wonderful down below. Tina's mouth was on my tiny penis, sucking slowly and tenderly. My organ responded, getting hard before I even had a chance to think. Her gentle hands were playing with my scrotum, and she was taking my whole four inches into her mouth. Finally pulling me atop her, Tina spread her legs under her teddie and kissed my neck, guiding my penis to her pussy. It was by far the nicest thing anybody had ever done for me. Here was this stunning, sensitive, fantasic girl doing everything she could ... and before I could enter her, my damned cock went soft again.
I rolled off her and covered my face with my hands. It was the most humiliating moment of my life.
Tina couldn't have been nicer, telling me that it was probably her, and not me, that I probably wasn't all that attracted to her. I told her that was ridiculous, that she was everything a man could want. I couldn't get dressed and out of there faster. Standing there looking like an angel in her teddie, Tina helped me on with my suit jacket and gave me a tender kiss on my cheek. She had a confident look in her eye.
"Don't worry," she said as I left the suite, "everything will be fine."
End of Part 8 (To be continued)
Part 9:
It was still only 6:30 in the morning when I went to reclaim my mom's car from valet parking. My necktie was still in my jacket pocket, where Tina had put it so seductively last night. The attendant, seeing me in my blue suit, gave me a knowing wink and asked me if I had a good time last night. He had assumed by the fact that I had checked the car last night and was leaving so early that I had spent the night having sex with someone. I nodded and gave him a fake little grin. Let him think what he likes. Why should everyone know that I couldn't get it up?
I went home and tried to reconcile what had happened. I had a really good time being with Tina, but what kind of man was I? Why could I reach orgasm dressed like a girl with aggressive old men, but not as a man with a woman any guy would give his left testicle to sleep with? Did it bother me just a little bit when we were together that everybody ogled Tina and I was ignored? I told myself "no, of course not," but ...
Would Tina say anything to Mr. Drummond about our date? What would I tell Mr. Drummond this afternoon when he asked me if I had a good time last night, as he most surely would?
Mom was surprised that I was home so early. I got to eat breakfast with her and Dad, mostly listening as they talked about Dad's work. Knowing I had to be at Mr. Drummond's office at 3 o'clock, I told Mom I had to work an early shift this afternoon because my supervisor wasn't going to be there. Mom said she didn't need her car, so it would be all right.
After breakfast, I went upstairs to my room to see if I had a fresh shirt to wear. Emptying my pockets, I noticed that I still had almost 450 dollars left from what Mr. Drummond had given me. Tina was not only beautiful, she was anything but an expensive date.
I showed up on time at Mr. Drummond's office, and the pretty receptionist told me to go right in, that "they are expecting you."
"They?" I thought.
Mr. Drummond, wearing an expensive-looking suit, met me at the door and closed it behind me. Sitting in one of the two chairs opposite his desk was an attractive, 40ish, slender woman with glasses and her brown hair in a bun atop her head. She sat there with her legs crossed in a fashionable turquoise skirt, a crisp, white blouse unbuttoned enough to show a hint of cleavage, and a form-fitting turquoise jacket.. Mr. Drummond introduced her to me as Miss Hendricks. She didn't get up as I shook her dainty hand and said hello before I sat down in the chair next to her.
Mr. Drummond sat in a big chair behind his desk, picked up some papers and read them for a few moments.
"Bill," he said, his face serious, "We've got something to talk about."
I worried for a moment that Mr. Drummond had found out from his goddaughter Tina that I had slept with her.
"Bill," he said, "I've got an interesting proposition for you. I want you to think about it seriously before you say yes or no, OK?"
Curious, I told him I would.
"Listen, Bill," he said, "The main office for my firm is in Chicago. That's where I do most of my business, and Chicago is where my most important client lives. This client has some -- well, he has some unique perspectives when it comes to his companions. I think that from what I've learned about you, Bill, I'd like you to come to work for me for a year in Chicago."
I was totally confused.
"Unique perspectives?" I asked. "What does that have to do with me working for you in Chicago? Mr. Drummond, I don't understand. What kind of work would I be doing?"
"Bill," he said, "you're a young person at a crossroads in life. Seeing you at Ted's house the last two weekends, I saw one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen ... except you're a boy. Before making you this offer, I had to be certain that you were better suited to be in a female role than a male one."
I was still confused.
"Mr. Drummond, if this is about your goddaughter ..."
Miss Hendricks and Mr. Drummond exchanged a knowing glance.
"Bill," Mr. Drummond said, "I have a bit of a confession to make. Tina isn't my goddaughter."
My eyes got really big. I gripped the arms of the chair.
"What do you mean? You told me you were there when she was born. She told me all about you when she was growing up. I don't understand."
Mr. Drummond's eyes were kind, but his voice was firm, like the lawyer that he is.
"Tina is not my goddaughter," he said. "I never met her before Monday, when I hired her."
"Hired her?" I said.
"Bill," he said steadily, "Tina is a five thousand dollars-a-night escort. She's got a bachelor's degree in theater, and on Monday, we went over a script she could use involving growing up with me as a friend of her family. She's absolutely top of the line when it comes to this sort of work, and escorting is how she's financing getting her master's degree."
The room started to swim around me as Mr. Drummond continued, glancing down at the notes on his desk..
"I like you, Bill. I wanted to be sure that I was doing the right thing. Tina -- by the way, that's not her real name -- Tina has given me a full written report on your evening. It would appear that you ... well ... you had difficulty performing with this desirable, beautiful woman."
This was a nightmare. Mr. Drummond knew ... everything?
"Listen, Bill, if it makes you feel any better, Tina liked you. She reported that you're a -- he looked down at the paper in front of him -- a very sweet boy."
My eyes started to tear up. Miss Hendricks just sat there impassively with her impressive legs crossed. With a halting voice, I asked Mr. Drummond why he had gone to all that expense and trouble to embarrass me. Then I couldn't help it. I started to cry.
Mr. Drummond sighed and walked slowly around his desk, bent down and put a fatherly arm around me. It felt good.
"Listen," he said, "some people are just not meant for a traditional role. It would appear you are one of those people. As Bill, you're really not all that impressive, but as Billie ... my goodness, you're so incredibly special."
I sat there, Mr. Drummond's comforting arm around me as I tried to regain my composure.
"What is it you want from me, Mr. Drummond?" I asked as I wiped tears from my eyes. "What is this about a job in Chicago?"
Mr. Drummond's arm left my shoulder. He stood up and leaned back against at the edge of his desk, facing me.
"I want Billie, not Bill, to move to Chicago," he said. "My firm will pay all your expenses, your apartment, your meals, your transportation, your dresses, nightgowns, your makeup, training ... everything.
My dresses, nightgowns, makeup? My training?
"Billie," he said, "I've seen the effect you have on men. With the right clothes, beauty advice and training, you could be a great benefit to my law firm. I have a client -- a very special client -- who has an affinity for beautiful young women who have ... well ... a little extra. Eventually, I'd want you to meet him."
"You want me to sleep with some guy?" I said, angrily rising from the chair. "That's what this is all about?"
Mr. Drummond's face turned stern. His eyes bore into mine, immediately intimidating me and calming me down.
"I'm a lawyer, Billie, not a pimp," he said sharply. "No one expects you to sleep with anyone. All you will be required to do is to make yourself as feminine and attractive as possible and to attend the opera and some social gatherings where you might meet my client. Whatever might happen after that would be entirely up to you."
I sat back down, my mind in a whirl. Turning into a full-time girl? Wearing dresses, meeting men? Do I really want to do that?
"How can I move to Chicago?" I asked blankly. "What would I tell my parents?"
Mr. Drummond's face softened.
"Here's how it would work, Billie," he said. (I noticed that now he was calling me by the feminine Billie, instead of Bill.) "We'll tell your parents that because my old friend from Vietnam thought so much of you, I've decided in his memory to offer you the annual internship at my firm in Chicago. Next week, we will fly you and your parents to Chicago, put all of you up in a nice hotel and give them a tour of our facility. We'll tell them that while they won't see much of you except for a Christmas visit next month, if you finish the 12-month internship, you will receive a $50,000 college scholarship in addition to some excellent experience at a major firm.
"Oh, and one more thing, Billie, as executor of Ted Wallace's estate, I'll see to it that in addition to the scholarship money, at the end of a year, you will be the beneficiary of his $75,000 life insurance policy."
I thought for a moment. Mom and particularly Dad would jump at an opportunity like that for me.
Mr. Drummond went on.
"While you're in Chicago, you'll get a new name, a new identity, and once your female persona is settled, we'll give you a temporary job at the law firm to keep you from getting too bored."
My mind was racing. A new name? A new identity? That would help solve the problem of hiding from Dr. Phillips. But do I want a new sexual identity, too?
"Would I have to ... you know ... get implants or anything?" I asked.
Mr. Drummond smiled.
"No, Billie," he said. "We would put you on a regimen of doctor-prescribed hormones and exercise. Miss Hendricks here will be in charge of all that and of teaching you all about fashion and makeup and how to walk, talk and purport yourself as a young lady."
I looked at Miss Hendricks, who stood and with perfect posture slowly walked around me in my chair. Even though she wasn't a young woman, she oozed sensuality. Her breasts were still firm, her posture regal and her perfume subtle but attention-getting.
"She's even prettier than the pictures you showed me of her, Nathan," she said.
I realized to my shame that Mr. Drummond and Miss Hendricks must have seen the photos of me on Mr. Wallace's computer, and Miss Hendricks was referring to me as "she."
"She's so fresh and vulnerable, and that blonde hair is to die for. I can do a lot with her, Nathan. Give me two months -- 10 weeks tops -- and no man will be able to resist her."
I looked at Mr. Drummond.
"I don't mean any disrespect," I said, "but wouldn't it be better if ... well ... if a man who also dresses taught me?"
Mr. Drummond and Miss Hendricks exchanged knowing looks.
"Billie," he said, "Miss Hendricks is a crossdresser. She's a man."
I didn't believe it. I stared at Miss Hendricks, making a point to look for what tipped off Dr. Phillips about me.
"She can't be a man," I said. "She doesn't have an adam's apple."
Miss Hendricks turned to me.
"I've had what's known as a tracheal shave, Sweetie," she said softly. "It's a minor operation where a doctor shaves the cartilage that makes up the adam's apple. You can see what the operation looks like on YouTube. The operation is really no big deal. I had a sore throat for a couple of weeks, that's all. You can get the procedure done in Chicago if you like, isn't that right, Nathan?"
Mr. Drummond nodded.
Miss Hendricks stood next to me, took my left hand and placed it on her groin for a moment. There was no doubt that this person wasn't born a female. She gently stroked my hair, then sat back down in her feminine way, crossing her legs.
"As I said, Billie," said Mr. Drummond, "I don't expect you to make a decision right now. Go home and think about it. I'll be attending Ted's funeral at St. Mary's tomorrow and then leaving town to fly to Chicago on Friday, so I'll need your decision by then, OK?
I said, "OK," my mind a blur as I got up to leave. Mr. Drummond walked me to the door, his reassuring hand on my back. I paused and asked if Tina had said anything other than writing that I was a sweet boy.
Mr. Drummond walked to his desk and fetched the report Tina had written. He showed me the last paragraph she had typed.
"Bill is very likable, a gentleman," she wrote. "It's too bad he doesn't know that he's so much better-suited to please a man than a woman."
I couldn't believe that I had been manipulated so effectively by Mr. Drummond and Tina, or whatever her name is. My mind was swimming as I left the office building. I got into Mom's car and just drove off aimlessly. What was I going to do? Who ever had a choice like the one facing me? On the one hand, there was the scholarship, the cash, and being far away from Dr. Phillips when he searched for me. On the other hand, I'm a boy, not a girl.
I just kept driving, my brain spinning. An hour or so later, I came upon a shopping mall I had never been to before. With Mr. Drummond's $450 in my pocket, I decided to see if there were any video games there that I didn't already own. Inside, on my way to finding the video store, there was a big department store. I decided to go in.
End of Part 9. (To be continued)
Part 10:
The next afternoon, about 20 people gathered in St. Mary's Catholic Church for Mr. Wallace's funeral. Five rows from the front pew, Mr. Drummond and Mr. Blanchard stood chatting before the start of the service when into the church walked a stunning young woman wearing black high heels, a dark blue hat and a form-fitting beige trenchcoat that clung to her slender curves like a second skin.
It was me.
I slowly walked to where Mr. Drummond was standing while Mr. Blanchard gawked at me.
"I guess you have my answer now, Mr. Drummond," I said softly. "Hello, Mr. Blanchard. How are you?"
Mr. Blanchard had a stupid smile on his face and didn't say a thing. He hadn't seen me since I had fled from Mr. Maddox. I was glad to see that Mr. Maddox wasn't in the church. He must still be in Idaho. Meanwhile, Mr. Drummond looked at me with kindness in his eyes.
"Are you certain, Billie?" he asked.
In response, I slowly undid the belt of my trenchcoat, unbuttoned the buttons and turned my back to Mr. Drummond.
"Would you please help me off with this, Mr. Drummond?"
Mr. Drummond moved the trenchcoat from my shoulders and it slid off my curvy body, revealing my tight little black dress accenting my tiny waist and hips. It had a V-neck, long, transparent lace sleeves that gathered at my wrists, and the skirt revealed a good bit of my bare thighs. My makeup, eyeliner and lipstick were understated, my perfume subtle.
"Holy shit," said Mr. Blanchard.
"Dennis!" reproached Mr. Drummond. "We're in a church."
I giggled.
"You know, Mr. Drummond," I said, trying to make conversation, "I was baptised as a baby in this church by Father Kincaid, and I was an altar boy here when I was little. My mother still attends Mass here every Sunday."
The people in the church started taking their seats. I looked up, and was surprised to see Father Kincaid instead of one of the other priests approach the lecturn. When I was an altar boy, Father Kincaid looked about 8 feet tall, but he was actually about 6-foot-4, now not as lean as he was but still imposing in what must be his early 70s. His face was craggy and evidence of the street brawler he was in his youth before taking up the priesthood. He had always seemed to be angry, maybe because one of his seminary classmates had become an archbishop, and he was stuck in this small church. All of us altar boys might misbehave with some of the nuns or younger priests watching us, but we were always on our best behavior when the intimidatating Father Kincaid was around.
We sat down in the pews, with Mr. Drummond on my right and Mr. Blanchard on my left. I crossed my legs and folded the trenchcoat over my lap as Father Kincaid began the funeral service. The minutes passed as Father Kincaid droned on in Latin and English. Then, I was startled to feel a hand on my left thigh, which I had crossed over my right. Mr. Blanchard had sneaked his rough right hand under my trenchcoat. I looked at him. His eyes stared straight ahead, his face betraying nothing as his busy hand squeezed and caressed the underside of my slender, bare thigh. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to make a disturbance in the church, so I just squirmed.
Mr. Blanchard, leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"I don't care if you aren't a woman," he hissed. "I want to fuck you."
A chill went through me. Mr. Blanchard's fingers moved up and lightly scraped against my panties. He leaned in again, his tongue moistening my ear.
"I'm GOING to fuck you," he whispered, "right after you suck my fat cock."
I started to breathe harder, my little penis beginning to stir in my panties. Mr. Blanchard wasn't going to stop unless ... unless ... I moved my coat off my lap.
As soon as I did, Mr. Blanchard quickly moved his hand away before anyone in the church could see what he had been doing. I whispered in Mr. Drummond's ear that I was having trouble seeing, and would he mind trading seats with me. He stood for a moment and I slid into his seat while he moved into mine. Father Kincaid was now saying nice things about Mr. Wallace, how he served his country and was an asset to the community. It was obvious that he didn't know Mr. Wallace at all. I doubted that Mr. Wallace was much of a churchgoer.
Finally, it was over, and people were filing out of the church. Mr. Drummond said that he would be going to the cemetery, but first he wanted to thank the priest for doing such a nice service. He took my elbow and with Mr. Blanchard walked up to Father Kincaid, who shook his hand, then looked down at me a bit curiously.
"Father," said Mr. Drummond, "this is my friend Dennis Blanchard, who served with Ted Wallace and me in Vietnam." Mr. Blanchard shook the old priest's hand with the same one that had just been on my thigh and under my dress. Then, Mr. Drummond motioned to me.
"And this," he said, "is a more-recent co-worker and friend of Ted's ... Billie Donahue."
It was so weird seeing Father Kincaid dressed as I was. I moved my transparent lace-covered right arm up to shake the hand of this priest who had intimidated me so much for all those years.
"Nice to meet you, Father," I said shyly.
Father Kincaid took my hand in his big, gnarled one ... and held it.
"Billie Donahue?" he said, staring at me. "Billie Donahue?"
I started to get a little nervous. Over his tight priest's collar, Father Kincaid's eyes were studying my face intently, moving down over my little dress, then back up to my face.
"Billie Donahue?" he mumbled. "Billie Donahue?"
Then it seemed as if a light went on in his craggy face.
"Billy Donahue!" he exclaimed. "Of course, Little Billy Donahue."
I looked over at Mr. Drummond, who looked a little confused and asked Father Kincaid whether he would be performing the graveyard service. The priest finally let go of my hand. He said that one of the other priests would be accompanying the casket to the cemetery.
"I'm getting a bit too old to be outside for long periods in this cold weather," said Father Kincaid, still staring at me while talking to Mr. Drummond. "You'll all be in very good hands with Father Ryan."
Father Kincaid motioned to a young priest, who came by immediately and was introduced to the three of us. He and Mr. Drummond spoke about the grave location in the cemetery, and while they did that, Father Kincaid spoke to me.
"Billy," he said, his eyes intensely on mine. "I believe I know your mother."
"Oh no!" I thought.
Father Kincaid looked angry.
"You have a lot to explain, Billy. I will see you in my office in 15 minutes," he said in a way that would brook no argument. He turned and walked away. I felt like I was a little kid again, being sent to the priest for some infraction or other. I didn't even think about not showing up at his office in the back of the church.
Mr. Drummond hadn't heard Father Kincaid talking to me. He asked if I would be going to the cemetery. Mr. Blanchard eagerly offered to drive me. I told them I wasn't up to going to the cemetery. Mr. Drummond said he understood and was glad I was accepting the Chicago offer. He asked if I could see him with one or both of my parents at his office tomorrow before he caught his plane. I told him I'd try to at least get Mom to meet him tomorrow. We made a tentative appointment for 10 o'clock in the morning. He shook my hand and picked up his coat from a pew. When I turned around, there was chubby Mr. Blanchard, who immediately took me into his arms to give me a goodbye hug and held me tight.
"You feel so good. Remember what I said," he whispered in my ear. "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you raw."
He let me go, and I took a step back.
"Don't even think about it," I said, summoning up my courage. "If you ever touch me again, Mr. Blanchard, I'll ... I'll ... I don't know what I'll do."
Mr. Blanchard's fat face broke into a wide smile at my pitiful attempt at threatening him.
"We'll see about that," he said before joining the rest of the stragglers leaving the church.
I found myself all alone in the quiet church. I looked up at the stained glass windows and felt very small. I wondered what Father Kincaid would say to me. He'll probably tell me I'm going to hell, and who knows, maybe I am. With my trenchcoat over one arm, and the clicking from my high heels echoing in the church, I made my way to the door that I remembered from my altar boy days leading to a hallway and Father Kincaid's office. Nervously, I knocked timidly on the door.
"Come in," ordered Father Kincaid. Somehow, my little black dress seemed even more little as I opened the door and walked in. The office was exactly the same as I remembered from when I was a little boy. The same oaken desk, the same framed seminary degree, the same thick, gray carpet (at least my heels didn't make noise as I walked in) and the same portrait of the Virgin Mary,
"Hello, Father," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I was suddenly feeling embarrassed for being dressed as I was in front of this holy man who had baptised me.
Father Kincaid rose rapidly from the chair behind his desk, his eyes flashing. Little had changed since I was a boy. He still looked about 8-feet tall. His voice resounded like a cannon shot.
"What is this, Billy?" he bellowed, approaching me. "Is this some kind of twisted joke?"
"Please, Father," I said, placing my trenchcoat down on a chair. "Please don't be angry with me. I've been through so much."
The old priest towered over me in his priestly cassock and crossed his thick forearms across his chest.
"Well?" he said, his tone harsh. "Tell me."
I think I must have needed some kind of absolution because I stood there in that little dress and told him what had happened to me over the last month. I confessed that while initially I had been blackmailed by Mr. Wallace, I think maybe something inside me must enjoy being thought beautiful and being taken sexually by men.
Father Kincaid's bushy eyebrows narrowed and his craggy face turned red. He seemed like he was ready to explode.
"You have sex!" he roared. "You have sex ... with men!"
He was so close to me now that I could smell his musty odor that I remembered from my childhood. He was shouting, so imposing that I was now as scared as I was as a child.
"You defy the laws of this church and dress like a harlot to entice men to do evil!"
Father Kincaid then gripped my shoulders with his rough, gnarled hands. His right hand violently ripped down the transparent lace, baring my left arm all the way down to my wrist. I tried to squirm away, but he held me fast.
"You're a man, damn you!" he shouted, now using his right hand to tear off my hat and throw it aside, revealing my long blonde hair held atop my head with bobby pins. His right hand now gripping my hair, his left still on my right shoulder, he twisted my body backwards. Ungainly on my high heels, I quickly was forced onto my back on the carpet, my tiny dress riding up on my slender thighs.
"Whore!" he roared as he sat on my slender stomach, his knees on either side of my torso. I tried to fend him off with my arms, my left one now bare. His clerical collar askew on his thick throat, his eyes ablaze, he shouted at me to stop struggling.
"Put your arms down!" he ordered.
Confused, intimidated, shocked at the ferocity of his assault, I slowly, haltingly put my arms on either side of my head, palms facing up in surrender. Drooling and cursing like a madman, Father Kincaid put his hands inside the V-neck of my dress and powerfully tore it apart, revealing the small cleavage in my black push-up bra. It was the first bra I have ever worn, and it seemed to make him even angrier.
"Man shall not lay with man!" he spat out. I remember how he would quote Leviticus to us altar boys all the time. I wondered if this madman was going to beat me to death.right there on his carpet. Instead, to my surprise, he yanked down my bra and began biting my right nipple ... hard.
"Father ... Father Kincaid," I panted, my arms still helplessly on either side of my head. "Please ... Father, what are you doing?"
"Shame on you, temptress!" he mumbled as he continued his assault on my nipple, his right hand on my bare left shoulder, holding me down. "Dressing like a blasted beautiful female to seduce an honest man."
I didn't know what to think. Was he punishing me or lusting for me? No, it wasn't possible. This is Father Kincaid. I had never particularly liked him, but there was no one I ever respected more. Yet, the teeth torturing my nipple were his. I lay back and closed my eyes. Now-familiar feelings of surrender mixed in with the electric shocks emanating from my breast down my body. Father Kincaid's hands moved rapidly up and down my torso. There was a hunger in them, a lust for my body that scared me. How long has this old man been celebate?
Abruptly, Father Kincaid roughly turned me over onto my knees, pulled my blue, frilly panties down my legs and pushed my head down.
"Dammit, Billy, you've got an ass that would tempt the angels in heaven," he said.
He forcefully spread my butt cheeks, and moments later, I felt the first tongue ever to enter my rectum. I had never felt anything like this before. It was so different, so much more comfortable than the penises that had assaulted me down there. Then it struck me.
Father Michael Kincaid, the most respected priest in the history of the St. Mary's parish, the man who had baptised me when I was a baby, had his tongue up my ass!
And it felt so good. The holy man's tongue wetly wriggled inside me. My hopelessly torn little black dress clung sexily to me by one sleeve, and my panties were hung up on my high heels. His arthritically twisted fingers gripped my butt cheeks as I writhed and began to moan at the unfamiliar, delicious sensations.
The old man was really into tonguing me, continuing for so many minutes, relaxing my sphincter. I was making satisfied litle girlie noises as my body undulated. It felt so good.
"You like this, don't you, harlot?" he said cruelly when he finally came up for air. "You like dressing up like a sissy and making men want to use your tawdry body, don't you?"
His wet mouth returned to my rectum, soon to be replaced by his middle finger, which he pushed into me slowly at first, then very rapidly. I moved my head up from the carpet, tossing my hair and writhing.under this new assault. Soon, Father Kincaid's middle finger was joined by his forefinger, ramming into me as the old priest's teeth nibbled on my ass cheeks. Finally, his fingers left me. His old, spotted hands pulled my slender body to him from behind, the remnants of my dress clinging to me, my bra now pushed down around my waist. I heard his pants drop to the carpet and him mutter, "Forgive me, Jesus!"
Seconds later, Father Kincaid's long cock was thrust inside me. The old man's tongue and fingers had done such an efficient job of opening me up that his cock didn't hurt me much. His body in his priestly cassock was soon on my back. His left arm moved around the front of my chest and grasped my right shoulder, playing with the transparent lace. His other hand was in my hair, strongly pulling it back, sending bobby pins flying and making me arch my slender back. I heard him mutter "Hail Mary, full of grace" over and over again as he slammed into my subservient body again and again.
I heard the old man's heavy breathing and felt it on the back of my neck.
"Holy Christ," I thought, "I'm getting laid by Father Kincaid!"
I'm not sure whether it was the sex itself or the erotic aspect of distinguished Father Kincaid fucking me, but I realized my little penis was rock hard. Momentarily, I thought how I had made the right choice. I couldn't keep a hard-on with beautiful Tina, but this horrible, old priest was going to make me cum any minute.
Each of his thrusts was bringing me closer to orgasm. I squeezed my butt cheeks, now a full participant in sex with the craggy-faced priest. He began kissing and licking my back, neck and shoulders while his left hand grasped my small penis. I was getting so turned on, and I could sense he was getting close to shooting off inside me.
Then I heard his voice, no longer angry, as he turned my face by my hair.
"Come on, lass," he said, "give us a kiss."
I turned my head, and as soon as our lips met, my little penis erupted. In the throes of my orgasm, his tongue entered my mouth. His mouth was easily as needy and lustful for me as his hands were when he first attacked me. My sensual body was rocking, and soon I could feel him thrust harder inside me and let out a gutteral wail as his 70-something-year old prick gushed its cum inside me.
"Hail Mary, full of grace," he shouted, "Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
The old man's body convulsed over and over again, and then he collapsed atop me, his breathing becoming more even as I purred femininely under him as the long minutes went by. His penis finally plopped out of me, and only then -- with our lust dissipated -- did the scope of what happened truly occur to me, and I think, to him. My blonde hair now messily over my neck and shoulders, I sat up and gently put my right hand fingertips on his craggy cheek.
After the intimacy we shared -- after the kiss he requested and received -- I was surprised at Father Kincaid's reaction.
Violently slapping my hand away, he struggled to his feet and pulled up his pants under his cassock. Staring down, he shook his finger at me as I leaned back on my elbows, my slim shoulders forward, what was left of my dress not coming close to covering my breasts and slender torso.
"Shame on you!" he bellowed, bending so his face was inches from mine. "Shame! A man, dressing like a slutty female to tempt unsuspecting men. You're going to roast in hell if you don't change your ways, Billy Donahue!"
I couldn't believe after what he had done to me, the intimacy that we felt at the end, that the dignified priest was saying this to me. I felt used and violated ... and I wanted to cry.
"Does your wonderful mother know that you debase yourself this way?" he asked in his demanding way.
I shook my head "no" as I rose and slowly pulled the rag that used to be my fashionable, sexy little black dress off my body and adjusted my pushup bra back under my breasts.
"Well," said Father Kincaid in his superior manner, I've a good mind to tell her. I want your pledge that you're going to forsake Satan and give up this life of sin."
I reached for my trenchcoat and, my eyes never leaving Father Kincaid's, put it on. I buttoned it from the bottom up, my legs bare from about three inches above my knees. I tied the belt snugly around my tiny waist and fluffed out my flowing blonde hair behind me. With the thin trenchcoat clinging and conforming to my curvy body, I walked up close to the old priest, who was fully 10 inches taller than me.
"No," I said quietly as I unbuttoned the top button of the trenchcoat, "you won't be telling my mother, you old hypocrite. If you tell her about me, I'll tell everyone in the diocese what you just did to me."
Taken aback, Father Kincaid knew I meant it.
"Surely," he said, not nearly as blustery as he was before, "that won't be necessary."
I unbuttoned the second button and put my hands flat on his chest. He looked nonplussed. My voice was soft and seductive.
"You say I live a life of sin, Michael?" I said, purposely calling him by his first name, "when your cum is still inside my body?"
I unbuttoned the third button, and looking up at his craggy face, moved the top of the trenchcoat just off my slightly shimmying shoulders, creating a wide triangle of bare skin on my shoulders and chest leading down to the top of my pushed-up breasts. Father Kincaid swallowed hard and his face began to perspire. He yearned to touch me again. I was enough of a woman to know that.
"Foresake Satan?" I said tantalizingly, my arms at my sides as I rubbed my slender body against his cassock and looked up at him with my wide, innocent eyes. Do you really want me to give up this life of sin ... right now, Father?"
"Curse you!" he shouted. His gnarled hands grabbed my bare shoulders as his mouth roughly covered mine. His tongue attempted to enter my mouth, but I kept my teeth closed shut. His craggy face went to my neck, nibbling and kissing it. I enjoyed his rough hands caressing my bare, sensitive shoulders and his mouth on my neck sending chills all through my body ... right up until I sharply kneed Father Kincaid right in the groin and watched him fall to the carpet on his hands and knees, gagging and retching like he was going to throw up.
I picked up my hat and put it cutely atop my blonde head, then I picked up what was left of my dress and tossed it over Father Kincaid as he suffered.
"Fuck you," I said to him as I sensually buttoned up my trenchcoat, "you son-of-a-bitch."
I left the ancient priest clutching his groin and making gurgling noises in the fetal position. I enjoyed the clicking sound my high heels made as I walked through the church and out into the brisk sunshine. Despite old Father Kincaid's semen still being in my body, I felt fresh and feminine as the chilly wind whipped around the bottom of my trenchcoat.
An hour later, I had changed back into my suit, washed the eyeliner, lipstick and makeup off my face and stashed my hat, shoes, panties, bra and trenchcoat temporarily in the garage. I would fetch them tonight after Mom and Dad were asleep. After walking in through the front door, I told Mom about the internship and asked whether she and Dad could meet with Mr. Drummond tomorrow morning. She said she would talk to Dad when he got home from work, but that it sounded like a wonderful opportunity.
I went up to my room and thought about the days to come. Dr. Phillips was still expecting me to meet him this coming Saturday in front of the same church that I had just left. I wondered how mad he would be when I stood him up, and smiled at how mad Father Kincaid would be if he saw me in his church for the marriage ceremony.
I took off all my clothes to take a shower. On a whim, I went to the back of my closet and pulled out another item I had purchased yesterday at the mall along with the trenchcoat, little black dress, shoes and bra. I held up in front of me in the mirror the darling, sexy, backless pastel halter gown that I purchased just in case I changed my mind about going to the wedding. I felt a little bad about not showing up when Dr. Phillips would be waiting for me Saturday night. But then again, he did blackmail and drug me. On one hand, it would be delicious to see Father Kincaid's reaction to seeing me. On the other hand, Dr. Phillips was a loathsome human being.
On still another hand, it really is a gorgeous dress ... and it would look so good on me,
End of Part 10. (To be continued.)