By Robin O.
Mr. Wallace and Me
Part 11:
Dad couldn't get off from work on Friday, but Mom and I went to Mr. Drummond's office in the morning. Mom wore a purple sleeveless, pleated, A-line polyester dress with a very modest scoop neck under her overcoat. I couldn't help but imagine what the dress would look like on me, but I was back wearing my blue men's suit. Mom doesn't get out very much, which in a way is a shame, because when she dresses up, she's still slim and very pretty. She was only 20 when she had me, and she's the reason my hair is blonde, because Dad's hair -- what's left of it -- is dark brown..
Mr. Drummond couldn't have been nicer. He gave Mom a tour of the office suite and told her how fond Mr. Wallace had been of me, and how much their time in Vietnam had meant to him. He described the law firm's internship program (that he had apparently made up for this occasion), told her about the scholarship money, and said the firm would not accept me without my parents' permission. When he described an all-expense-paid trip to Chicago for Mom, Dad and me beginning Wednesday, Mom was extremely impressed.
When we got up to leave, I thought I noticed Mom trembling just a bit when Mr. Drummond helped her into her coat from behind and told her he hoped things could work out for me, that I seemed to be a fine young man. When we got back into the car, Mom settled into the passenger seat and sighed.
"Mr. Drummond is quite attractive, isn't he?" Mom said, before hurriedly adding: "I mean ... for an older man, that is."
"Oh?" I replied, "I hadn't noticed."
It may have been the biggest lie I've ever told in my life.
Mom said she was pretty sure she and Dad could take a couple of days off for the trip if spending a year in Chicago was what I wanted. I told her that it sounded exciting to me, and that the scholarship money would keep us from having to take out a loan for college. I didn't tell her about Mr. Drummond's promise to give me the $75,000 from Mr. Wallace's insurance if I lasted out the year.
Mom said she needed some clothes for her trip and asked if I wouldn't mind stopping at the nearby mall on the way back.
"I know how much you hate shopping," she said with a mother's smile. "But would you mind ... for me?"
"Sure, Mom," I said, knowing I would be having a wonderful time checking out dresses, tops and skirts that I could come back and buy some other time. " I'll do it ... for you."
Mom spent hours going through six different stores, but in the end wound up with two blouses, three skirts, stockings and some of her favorite Chantelle panties. I made mental notes about coming back for maybe 80 things that I couldn't possibly afford. I had spent almost all of the money that Mr. Drummond had given me on my own shopping spree a few days earlier, but I smiled to myself, thinking I had spent wisely.
The next morning was Saturday, but Dad went in to his office so he could get work done that he would have been doing later in the week, clearing the way for our trip. Mom and her sewing group volunteered once a month at a food bank, and she got a ride there from one of the other members. That meant her car was available to me.
"You won't mind terribly much spending the day by yourself, will you, Billy?" Mom asked. She really is sweet.
"No," I said. "I'm fine, Mom. I'll think of something to do. I'll probably be going out with my friends before you get back. Don't worry if I'm home late."
As it turns out, I knew precisely what I was going to do. Well, maybe not precisely, but I had a pretty good idea. Before I would leave for Chicago, I had some things to do.
It was about an hour and a half later when I drove my Mom's car slowly past Mr. Wallace's trailer. I looked at it wistfully. It contained so many memories, most of them awful. It had been the place where I had lost my virginity ...and my masculinity. But it was also the place where I had discovered my femininity ... and I was feeling empowered in a way I had never known before. It wasn't just kicking Father Kincaid in the balls -- although that was incredibly empowering -- it was the effect I had on grown men ... older, mature men who wanted to touch me, to kiss me, to have sex with me. And now this 18-year-old had some things she -- yes, she -- wanted to do.
I continued slowly down the road, stopping in front of a small stucco house with "15" on the mailbox. Two cars were in the driveway. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror, opened my car door and slid both my legs out at the same time. I stood up and wriggled, adjusting the puffy-sleeved blue house dress that Mr. Wallace had made me wear those first two Saturdays. It was actually just a little loose on me. I had lost almost 10 pounds.
I guess he heard my car door shut, because Stan, the man who had attacked me and humiliated me in the pitch-black night a week ago, who had told me I should come back today to clean his house and be taken by him again, hurried out of the front door and across the street, a concerned look on his face. I smiled and shook my head, my ponytail bouncing on my exposed upper back and neck.
"I wasn't sure you were going to show up," he said, keeping his voice low. "I guess you liked what I gave you last week, didn't you, you little whore?"
I hated his arrogant smile and attitude. But I smiled shyly at him and adjusted the sleeves off my shoulders, baring them and more of my chest.
"I just couldn't stay away," I said as I looked up at him adoringly.
Stan looked furtively back into his house, and apparently not seeing his wife, grabbed my soft, bare shoulders and kissed me roughly. As my body and lips submitted to him, I felt a familiar chill of desire.
"We'll see if you're as good a lay with your cunt as with your ass," he said, kissing me again before letting me go and looking back again at his house. "But you're early. My wife hasn't left for her mother's place yet. Come back in about two hours."
I put my right hand on his left shoulder and teasingly breathed into his right ear before whispering:
"I don't think so, Stan," I said. "With Mr. Wallace gone, I'll need the money from cleaning your house. I should talk about that with your wife."
I began walking toward his house, smiling back at him over my bare shoulder.
"Wait!" he said urgently, catching up to me and clumsily moving my sleeves back over my shoulders. "Just tell her you'll work cheap, and I'll make sure you get paid extra ... OK?"
"Mmmmmm," I said seductively, making a little kissing motion with my lips, "I think I'm going to like working here."
We walked into his home, and I was met by Stan's wife, Valerie, whom I had met briefly a week ago outside Mr. Wallace's trailer. She said hello after having just gotten through changing their baby's diaper. We sat down in their living room, with the baby on her lap on the couch next to Stan. I sat on an easy chair opposite them with my legs crossed, baring a little of my thighs as I fluffed out my puffy sleeves briefly with both my hands.
"You're a very pretty girl," she said, making it seem as if it were more of a criticism than a compliment.
"Thank you, ma'am," I said innocently.
"It was a shame about Mr. Wallace," Valerie said without sounding terribly sympathetic. "I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but Stan and I went to his house about a year ago trying to raise money for the United Way, and the place was a complete pig sty. How could you work for someone like that?"
"Oh," I said, "it wasn't that bad. But yes, Mr. Wallace could get pretty sloppy."
"How long did you work for Mr. Wallace?" she asked.
I told her that it was only for about two months.
Valerie didn't seem convinced that I had enough experience. Her voice got demanding as she talked down to me.
"Well then, do you have any other references?"
"References?" I said brightly. "Well, yes. I have another reference. Your husband, Stan."
Valerie looked surprised. Stan looked confused.
"Stan?" she said. "What do you mean?"
"Stan raped me last Saturday night," I said sweetly. "Does that count as a reference?"
Stan's face turned white. Valerie almost dropped the baby.
"What??!!!" Valerie blurted in a high-pitched voice.
"Last Saturday night," I said matter-of-factly, "do you remember Stan going out around midnight for a smoke?"
Valerie's mouth dropped open. I continued:
"Well, that's when he saw me leaving Mr. Wallace's house ... and he attacked me. Do you want the full description with the kissing and thrusting and everything?"
Stan started to shout and order me out of the house, but I just sat there calmly, my legs crossed. I took my right puffy sleeve off my shoulder and moved it forward toward Valerie.
"There was a bite mark on my shoulder from just before he orgasmed, but maybe it's faded by now," I said, moving my left sleeve off that shoulder, too, just for fun. "He was very rough. I told him it was my period, but he took me ... you know ... anally."
Valerie looked like she was about to cry. She looked suspiciously at her husband, who stammered that he didn't know what I was talking about. Then she turned to me.
"Why should I believe you?" she said, her voice cracking.
"Well, let's see," I said, the fingertips of my right hand femininely grazing my bare right shoulder. "Before raping me, Stan said you hadn't had sex since the third month of your pregnancy."
Valerie looked horrified at her husband, who was shaking his head "no" vigorously.
"Oh," I said, "and he also said you wouldn't let him have anal sex with you."
Valerie's eyes got very big as I continued.
"And he said you used to like that before you got pregnant."
Valerie's face got very red, and she started shrieking at Stan. She was holding the baby with one hand and hitting her husband with the other. She was screaming about wanting a divorce, he was covering up and yelling, and the baby started crying. I smiled, got up daintily, walked to the door and glanced back over my bare shoulder at the frenzied scene, then walked across the street to the car and drove off.
"One down," I said to myself, smiling, "two to go."
End of Part 11. (To be continued.)
Part 12:
It was hours later, and I was home from the beauty parlor where my makeup was done and my long, blonde hair was styled regally above my head with a sexy swirl over my forehead. If the women doing my hair and makeup knew I was a boy, they didn't say anything. They mostly just gossiped with each other. At home, as I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my light makeup, eyeliner, eye shadow and lipstick were impeccable. Long, jingly, silver clip-on earrings dangled from my lobes halfway to my collar bone, and my mom's subtle Yves Saint Laurent "Cinema" perfume I had dabbed onto my neck and breast added to my femininity.
My ankle-length, slinky, chiffon halter gown revealed most of my upper chest, as well as my shoulders, neck and my entire slender back down almost to my tight, little backside clad in one of my mother's Chantelle frilly panties. The skirt was slit from just above my bare right knee. The slender halter chiffon material was firm on both sides of my collarbone leading down to the scantest hint of my small cleavage. The tight dress gave my braless breasts a nice, little lift. White elbow-length gloves contributed to my classy elegance, and an inch-wide, silver-colored cloth choker that matched my earrings covered what there was of my adam's apple. On my small feet were the same black high heels I had worn to Mr. Wallace's funeral, but dressed as I was, I didn't think anyone would be paying a lot of attention to my shoes.
Looking in the mirror, my shoulders back, my posture perfect, swaying gently to reveal my bare back, I was getting aroused. I wanted to be especially sensual tonight. I looked older than my 18 years, maybe 22 or 23, and I knew I was beautiful. I have come such a long way from when Mr. Wallace made me put on that blue dress for the first time. I wished Mr. Drummond could see me in this classy, sexy dress. But it was going to have to be enough, first to show myself to horny, hypocritical Father Kincaid where he couldn't get at me with all those people in the church for the wedding, then to see about what I could do to postpone Dr. Phillips' search for me without having to have sex with him.
Over my slender, bare shoulders I wrapped a nearly transparent white lace shawl that would provide me just a little modesty in the church if not a lot of warmth when I was outside. I picked up my small, metallic-silver purse, then walked outside to the cold November dusk and my mom's car. My boy clothes were in a gym bag in the trunk. I tingled as I wondered what might transpire before I would put them on to come home
So much was going through my mind as I drove to St. Mary's. I had to concentrate on my driving because of my long gloves and those high heels, but I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't tempting fate tonight instead of staying home and hoping Dr. Phillips couldn't track me down before I moved out of town. My mind wandered to what my life would be like in Chicago, how much of Mr. Drummond I might be seeing, what changes hormones would make to my body, and who was this mysterious client of Mr. Drummond's that he wanted me to meet.
I was stopped at a traffic light a half block away from St. Mary's when I saw Dr. Phillips in front of the church in a tuxedo. He was ignoring the cold temperature, pacing up and down, every few seconds looking at his watch. I smiled to myself, really tempted to just drive off and let my blackmailer suffer and wait for someone who would never show up, but instead I drove past him and into the church parking lot without him seeing me. After checking my lipstick and hair in the rearview mirror, I picked up my purse, slid my legs out of the car and clutching my transparent shawl to me, walked to the front of the church.
Dr. Phillips' back was to me as I took small, feminine steps toward him. I tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hi Leo," I said softly. "Waiting for someone?"
Dr. Phillips turned sharply, his eyes bulging as he stared at me. He swallowed hard.
"B-Billie," he said. "I didn't ... I mean ... You're here ... Oh my word ... You look amazing."
I thanked him and even though he still appeared loathsome with his few remaining strands of hair combed over his bald head, I told him how handsome he looked in his tuxedo. Then he clumsily leaned forward to kiss my cheek, causing my right earring to tinkle. He babbled on some more about how beautiful I was, how much I was going to enjoy the wedding, and how we don't have to spend a lot of time at the reception because he didn't think he could wait to get me alone.
I sensually rubbed one of my gloved hands over his forearm and suggested that we should get into the church because it was cold and we didn't want to miss the wedding.
"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry. Yes, let's go in. By all means, yes."
I shuddered as I felt his right hand on my back over my shawl as he guided me into the church. It was the same hand that dealt with so many corpses in his job as medical examiner. We sat fairly close to the front, where I could be confident that Father Kincaid would see me. Dr. Phillips took my left hand tightly in his right one. Remembering how slimy his hands were, I was grateful that I had chosen to wear those elegant elbow-length white gloves. As we waited for the ceremony to begin, Dr. Phillips sat there staring at me, going over every feature like the medical examiner he is, making me feel more than a little self-conscious with so much bare skin showing.
"Is something wrong, Leo?" I whispered, breathing into his ear. "Do I look all right? I so want you to be proud to have me as your girl."
"All right?" he marveled. "You're so .. you're the most ... you're stunning."
I smiled, and just then, Father Kincaid took the pulpit in his imposing black cassock and reverse priest's collar. Around his neck was a prominent gold cross he liked to show off because his former classmate, the archbishop, had given it to him years ago. As the murmurings in the church ceased, he theatrically surveyed the pews like a king peering down at his subjects ... until his eyes met mine and his face fell. I smiled and winked at him and then pursed my lips in a naughty kissing motion while almost imperceptively shimmying my shoulders. The huge old man's eyes widened momentarily, then he quickly turned his gaze away from me, and the wedding procession began.
The bride was very sweet-looking and pretty in her white, strapless wedding dress. I wondered how long it might be before those hormones I will be taking might make my breasts big enough to allow me to wear something strapless. I had already determined that I don't ever want massive breasts, just rather small, firm ones proportionate to my slender figure.
After the ceremony, Father Kincaid looked over at me while going down the aisle to have his picture taken with the bride and groom in another room. He seemed angry, as usual. I was hoping he was still sore where I had kicked him.
Before we left for the reception, Dr. Phillips insisted on introducing me as his girlfriend to his co-workers, possessively putting his hand around my tiny bare-in-the-back waist like an immature teenager. I got some strange looks from his colleagues. They were trying to be nice but were surely wondering why a young, beautiful girl was with this homely older man they obviously didn't care for very much. I smiled politely, melded my supple body against Dr. Phillips, whose arm never left my waist,.and I told everyone how wonderful he is.
I shuddered as Dr. Phillips pulled me to him for a little kiss in front of his co-workers before telling me we should be getting on to the reception. I almost panicked. It was the first time I had ever been kissed by a man in public.Those watching saw an older man and a pretty girl exchange a kiss, but within me was an 18-year-old boy being kissed by a man in front of other people.
I smiled nervously. It was ghastly to be kissed by this repulsive man. I wondered what I had been thinking a week ago when we had made such passionate love after he chloroformed me. Had I been so worn down by all the previous events of that day that I couldn't think straight? Was I so threatened by what he said he would do to Mr. Drummond ... and me? Or had I just needed to cum so much that I fooled myself into thinking that being this horrible older man's girlfriend was what I desired?
When we got into his car, Dr. Phillips pulled me to him and kissed me again, this time longer, with his snaky tongue sliding into my mouth. I moaned needingly and gently stroked his face with my gloved left hand.as our lips parted. He had no idea how disgusted and repulsed I really was. I moved away alluringly, telling him that another kiss like that and we'll never make it to the reception. I put on my seat belt and let my gloved left hand rest femininely on his right thigh as he started up the car. I didn't touch it, but it was obvious that under his pants his small penis was erect. Thankfully, the ride to the hotel where the reception was taking place was short. Dr. Phillips pulled the car into the valet parking area, and one of the young attendants opened the door for me, his eyes all over me as I smiled shyly and thanked him. I saw another attendant give Dr. Phillips the parking slip, which he put into his pants pocket.
Soon, Dr. Phillips' arm was possessively around my back, his face beaming as we made our way past the concierge desk and into the reception ballroom. Trying to make conversation, I mentioned what a lovely hotel it was. He responded by pulling me closer and whispering that he had reserved a room in the hotel for the night. I told him that I was lucky to be the girlfriend of such a good planner.
"You make me feel so special, Leo," I whispered. "You think of everything."
When we got to our large, round table in the ballroom, a few couples were already seated. As the band played, Dr. Phillips made our introductions while I stood there with an innocent smile and nodded sweetly at everybody. I slowly removed my white shawl, and Dr. Phillips' face broke into a wide smile as so much of my bare skin was revealed.in my classy halter gown. By their glances, it was evident that the other men at the table noticed me, too. It was such a new sensation to know that I could probably seduce any man in the ballroom. I was feeling sensual and alluring ... and yet, underneath the sexy dress, the makeup and the earrings, I was still a nervous boy.
We made small talk, my earrings jingling as my head moved from side-to-side as others joined our table, including two couples that Dr. Phillips had introduced me to in the church. I wondered why all women didn't wear jingly earrings all the time.They're so much fun and sexy, too. The women -- Denise and Helen -- who worked with Dr. Phillips, were in their 30s and friendly with each other like co-workers are. Their husbands sneaked peeks at me when they thought their wives wouldn't notice. When they did, I let my eyes meet theirs, and they quickly looked away, only to sneak another peek a few seconds later. That was fun.
When the bride and groom entered the ballroom, we all stood and applauded them. Dr. Phillips took the opportunity to put his right arm around my bare shoulders. I looked at the head table and was surprised and disappointed to see Father Kincaid. I hadn't counted on the old man attending the reception. He stood at the microphone, congratulated the bride and groom, and then gave the invocation, his head down, his eyes scrunched closed, the very picture of piety. When he finished, his eyes searched the ballroom. They stopped when they reached mine. He gave me an evil smile, and suddenly I lost some of my confidence. My intention had been just to tease him and to look beautiful and to remind him just by my presence in the church about that kick in the groin.
The Best Man was the groom's brother -- tall and more handsome than the groom -- and gave a long, rambling toast that he and a few of his friends thought was funny, but I didn't understand most of it. I was a little nervous about pulling off my masquerade with Father Kincaid at the wedding. I drained my whole glass of champagne. Then the bride and groom went out onto the dance floor for their first waltz as man and wife. After applauding, we sat down to dinner, with Dr. Phillips filling my wine glass twice while we ate. After dessert, I excused myself to go to the ladies room. As I rose, making sure my posture was perfect, I could feel eyes on me from men and women at nearby tables.
It was strange going into a ladies room. I was the only one there, and by force of habit, I glanced around for a urinal, then smiled to myself for being silly and went into a stall. I carefully moved up the bottom of my long gown above my waist, thankful for the slit in my skirt but feeling clumsy and inept. Sitting back on the toilet, I moved my panties down to my ankles, my legs straight ahead, parallel to my torso.
"How do women do this?" I asked myself while congratulating myself on not wearing pantyhose tonight. The effect was that my legs weren't visible through the open part of the stall's door when Denise and Helen came in
"Did you see old man Phillips tonight with that young blonde?" asked Helen in a gossipy way.
Denise gave a haughty, short laugh.
"I've never seen him like he is tonight," she said. "He's actually smiling."
"Can you blame him? That girl, she's stunning," Helen said. "Where does an old coot like Dr. Phillips get a girlfriend like that? You don't suppose she's a ... you know ... a prostitute he's hired for tonight, do you?"
"You know," replied Denise, "the same thought occurred to me. I asked my husband, Dave, if he thought she might be a paid escort, and he said if she is, then he's going to start saving his money to rent her some night. I think he was only half-kidding, but I almost couldn't blame him. She's so young and sexy, damn her. Anyway, Dave said she's way too sweet to be an escort. What he did say was that Dr. Phillips is the luckiest son of a bitch in town."
I looked in the small space of the stall's door hinge to see Helen smile as both women freshened their makeup while looking in the mirror.
"Did you notice her skin?" she said. "It glows. Not a blemish, and that dress -- what there is of it -- is gorgeous. With her figure, she looks as if she was poured into it. My husband, Douglas, couldn't keep his eyes off her. The nice thing is that after we get home, Douglas is going to want to have sex with me and pretend he's doing her. Oh, he won't admit it, but this Billee has really got his motor running."
The two women laughed conspiratorialy.
"Dave's the same way," Denise said. "I think we're both in for a little passion tonight. We should probably thank that beautiful blonde girl."
"Yes," Helen said sarcastically as they left the ladies room, "we should thank her for making us feel so old and fat."
Once they were gone, I quickly did my business, pulled up my Chantelle panties and adjusted my gown. Leaving the stall, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, my bare shoulders back, my waist so tiny. The ladies were right. I was beautiful. I didn't want their husbands, but if I did, I was pretty sure I could get them to be unfaithful. All it would take would be a smile and a piece of paper with my phone number on it pressed into one of their hands.
For some reason, it felt good to know that. It gave me a little needed confidence after Father Kincaid's troubling smile at me earlier.
When I returned to the table, Dr. Phillips stood and pulled out my chair like you see in the movies. I smiled back at him adoringly over my bare shoulder. When I did, I noticed Father Kincaid start to make his way to our table. His evil smile was back. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I had no intention of finding out. I reached for Dr. Phillips' elbow.
"Leo?" I said as I rose from my chair. "Please dance with me, Leo?"
He muttered something about not being a very good dancer.
"Please?" I said in my best little girlie voice as I swayed gently while holding his left hand in both of mine. "Pretty please, Leo? Dance with me?"
I pulled him gently toward the dance floor where I put my left arm around his neck and felt his sweaty right hand move around my bare back. The fingers of his left hand and my right entwined as our cheeks met and our bodies pressed against each other to the band music.
"You smell so good," Dr. Phillips whispered in my ear as his hand on my bare back pulled me closer. "You FEEL so good."
I let my body be malleable in his arms. He was already hard. I could feel his small penis against me through his pants and my dress. I looked over his shoulder and saw that Father Kincaid was hovering near our table while Helen, Denise and the people sitting there were watching us dance. Actually, you couldn't really call what we were doing dancing. Dr. Phillips was right. He wasn't a very good dancer. Other couples joined us on the dance floor as Dr. Phillips and I mostly just swayed to the music until the song was over.
The band then played a lively rock song. I moved away from Dr. Phillips and began to sexily sway and dance in front of him, shimmying my bare, slender shoulders, turning a few times so he could see my bare back. Meanwhile, he attempted to fast-dance, but he was so uncoordinated that it was pitiful to see. I got a little lost in the music, closing my eyes and swaying as my dress clung to my lithe figure and moved sensually with me. My earrings swinging and bouncing off my cheeks, I felt so alive and so desirable. From where I was, I could see that my date was even more aroused, his eyes glued to my every girly movement.
The next song was slow. We again embraced and began to sway to the music when the groom's tall, handsome brother asked Dr. Phillips if he could cut in. Dr. Phillips nodded regretfully and began to step aside, but I pulled him to me and spoke to the handsome young man.
"I'm sorry, but I promised this dance ... and every other one ... to my boyfriend here."
The young man was obviously not used to being turned down.
"But ... but ..." he said, astounded, "I'm the Best Man."
"No, you're not," I said alluringly while turning my long, bare, sexy back to him and crossing my gloved arms around Dr. Phillips' neck. "I've already got the best man right here."
With that, I leaned forward on my high heels, tilted my head and gave a bewildered Dr. Phillips a tender kiss. His hands slowly went to my back as he hungrily pressed his lips to mine. That's when he heard me moan needingly as my slinky, mostly bare body melded into his stiff tuxedo-clad one. I was faking, of course. At least, that's what I told myself. More than anything, I think I was turning myself on.
The groom's brother looked at us, probably wondering what I saw in this old, nondescript man, then wandered off. As Dr. Phillips and I danced, I looked over his shoulder at our table, where Helen and Denise, along with their husbands and others at the table were kind of staring at us. But I couldn't see Father Kincaid there anymore. My eyes searched the ballroom, and he was nowhere to be found. The old man must have gone home. I felt so relieved. My lips got very close to Dr. Phillips' right ear as I whispered.
"Leo, darling?" I said softly as we swayed slowly to the music, "do you remember what you wanted me to do for you in the shower last week?"
Dr. Phillips gulped hard, then could only manage nodding his head twice as he held me tighter. His face was turning red as I took my time licking his ear slowly, sensually, my little tongue moving into every crevice as my writhing body rubbed up against his tuxedo front. I could feel his hardness. I thought he might orgasm right there on the dance floor.
"You mean?" he blurted.
"Yes, darling," I whispered. "I've felt guilty all week about how disappointed you were when we were in the shower and ... well ... my hand ... you know. I never knew what I wanted in my life until you made love to me last week. I want to be your girl, Leo. I don't ever want to disappoint you again."
Dr. Phillips' face began to perspire as my gloved hands clung to his neck and I continued to whisper in his slightly damp ear.
"I want to feel your wonderful penis in my mouth, Leo, as the water covers us in the shower. Promise me that will be the very first thing we do when we go to our room. I won't feel worthy to be your girlfriend until I do that for you. Promise me, Leo? Promise me that will be the first thing we do?"
Dr. Phillips' eyes bulged. He made a squeaky sound and nodded his head.
"Yes," he finally uttered. "Yes, that ... OK."
"Do you want me, Leo?"
Dr. Phillips' hands moved down to my tight, little waist as I leaned back and looked at him innocently, my eyes locked on his, my gloved hands moving from around his neck to up against his chest.
"Want you?" he said incredulously. "Of course. Absolutely. I mean ... I can't believe ... You're so beautiful. ... That dress ..."
I smiled and spoke softly.
"Would you like me to wear it in the shower while you're naked, Leo?" I said as I watched his eyes grow wider. "Would you like to see it all wet and clinging to my body as I take your cock into my mouth?"
"You .... you'd do that?" he asked, his voice trembling. "You'd do that for me?"
I didn't answer. I kissed him, my tongue playing with his upper lip for a few moments.
"It's been a lovely wedding, Leo," I said with a sweet smile. "But wouldn't you like to go to our room now?"
Dr. Phillips' face was very red, and he was perspiring.
"Uhh ... yes .. of course," he said, stumbling over his words. "Uhhhh ... yes ... I was just about to suggest that very thing."
Dr. Phillips led me back to our table with a very sweaty hand on my bare back. As I picked up my purse and shawl, he told everyone that it was getting late, and that we should be going. The women at the table faked disappointment that we would be leaving. I think the men's disappointment was genuine, as they ignored Dr. Phillips and looked at me. I let my eyes connect with each of them and I didn't make a sound as my lips mouthed an innocent yet alluring "Bye." I wondered how many of them would be thinking of me tonight when they went to bed.
As we walked out of the ballroom, I tried to make conversation with Dr. Phillips.
"This is such a lovely hotel, darling," I said. "Is our room nice?"
He smiled weakly.
"I don't know," he said. "I ... well ... I haven't checked in yet."
"Oh?" I said innocently while enjoying the clicking sound my high heels were making on the floor as I carried my shawl and purse, my posture perfect in my lovely dress.
"Well," he said sheepishly as we arrived at the hotel's front desk. "I wasn't certain ... I wasn't sure ...."
I giggled girlishly and kissed his cheek.
"You weren't sure I was going to show up, Leo?" I asked. "Is that it?"
He admitted it with a nod of his head.
"Oh, Leo," I exclaimed, smiling. "Shame on you. After last week? After how we made love? After I told you that I want to be your girl. Who wouldn't want to be the girlfriend of such an important man as Dr. Leo Phillips? How could you ever doubt that I would be here?"
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Look, my luggage is in my car. I'll go get it, and then we can check in."
I grabbed his elbow with both my hands.
"No, please don't," I said, whispering in his ear. "You're not going to need any more clothes tonight."
Dr. Phillips tried to stifle a hideous, shrill laugh. I continued whispering.
"I don't have a change of clothes, either, Leo, and if I'm going to be walking in this lobby tomorrow morning dressed in what promises to be a wet halter gown, I want to be escorted by a handsome gentleman in a tuxedo. OK, darling?"
"OK," he said, trying and failing to give me a debonaire smile.
Dr. Phillips went to the counter to check in while I stood there, my feet close together, my gloved arms extended prettily in front of me, holding my purse and shawl. The young clerk checking us in gave me a glance, looked at Dr. Phillips, then back at me, and tried to contain a smile.
"Have an enjoyable evening, sir" he said to Dr. Phillips. As we walked toward the elevator, I glanced back at the clerk over my shoulder. He was still looking at me and smiling knowingly. I smiled back.
We got into the empty elevator, and Dr. Phillips pressed the button for the eighth floor and reached for me as soon as the door closed. But he barely had his hands on my upper arms when the elevator bell rang and the door opened to let in a couple with three children. Dr. Phillips jumped back and stared at the elevator ceiling as the family bustled in. When the elevator once again began its ascent, one of the little girls pointed at the lights showing the floors.
"We're not going down, Mommy," she said. "We're going up."
"Oh darn," her mother said. "OK, we'll go down after we go up. No harm done."
It was obvious that Dr. Phillips didn't agree. He obviously couldn't wait to get his hands on me. That became evident as soon as we got into our room. His hands grasped my bare shoulders and he pushed my back against the door as our lips met. I dropped my purse and shawl onto the carpet as his tongue thrust into my mouth. I shimmied and moaned as he showed a power and strength I didn't know he had.
"You're so beautiful," he gushed between kisses. "You're so blonde, so sexy. I can't believe you're actually here with me."
We kissed for long minutes, his lust growing each second, his breathing hard, his hands seeming unable to decide what part of my body to grab or caress. His mouth attacked my neck below my choker, sending chills all through me. My voice betrayed a growing desire.
"Remember what we said, darling?" I said, my breathing becoming uneven. "What we decided to do first thing ... in the shower?"
With that, I leaned back in his arms and my gloved hands sexily undid his tuxedo bow tie and took it off. Then I helped him off with his jacket, folded it carefully and put it on a chair along with the tie. I looked at him and smiled.
"A rental?"
Dr. Phillips turned a little red and smiled sheepishly.
"You made it look wonderful, darling," I said. "Let's make sure it's in good shape when you return it."
I smiled and sidled up to him, my shoulders sexily hunched in as I gently kissed his lips. Then I unbuttoned his shirt buttons one by one, wetly kissing his chest as his skin became revealed. He closed his eyes as my tongue traced around his tiny nipples. As I moved his arms up to unbutton his sleeves, I sensually took first one thumb, then the other into my mouth and sucked gently.
With his shirt now neatly folded atop his other clothes, I went down on my knees, removed his shoes and calf-length black socks, then reached up, undid his pants and pulled them down, careful not to spill the contents of his pockets. Next to come down and off were his white jockey shorts. His 5-inch penis sprang up in front of my face. I looked up at a naked Dr. Phillips, smiled and extended my gloved hand.
"Help me up, darling?"
His hand took mine and helped me to my feet. I femininely folded his pants and put them and his socks on the chair on top of his shirt. I turned and we embraced for a passionate kiss. The naked old man was trembling, his penis jabbing into me, his hands all over me. In his passion, he began kissing my neck and bare left shoulder. Breathing heavily, I clung to his naked body and whispered.
"Now, darling," I said, "just like last week, go into the bathroom, do your business, then turn on the shower and open the door for me." I ran the forefinger of my gloved right hand over his penis slowly as the pinky of my left hand moved between my lips . "I can't wait for this to be in my mouth, to truly become your girl. Please hurry, darling."
"Yes," he said, his hands slowly, regretfully leaving my body, "I'll just be a minute."
He turned and almost ran into the bathroom, his sagging bottom the last thing I saw as the door closed.
As soon as it did, I reached for the neat pile of clothes on the chair and the cordless telephone on the desk, picked up my purse and shawl ... then hurried out of the room. Soon, I was in and out of the elevator and in the hotel lobby, where I found a ladies room. I left the hotel's cordless phone on a sink counter and searched Dr. Phillips' pants pocket. I took out his cell phone and put it back into the pocket. I found the valet parking slip, then I took a 10-dollar and 20-dollar bill from his wallet. I put the wallet back into his pants and walked out to the concierge desk, where I placed Dr. Phillips' clothes. I gave the 40ish concierge working there my most dazzling smile along with 10 dollars and the parking slip and asked if he would be kind enough to arrange to have someone put the clothes in our car.
He looked me over and was very eager to be of service. He said he would take care of it immediately. I asked him to call a taxi for me and to keep the parking slip at the desk because my boyfriend, Dr. Phillips, would be picking it up in the morning. He said it would be a pleasure for such a lovely lady.
"I'd be ever so grateful," I said girlishly. He was flirting with me, and I rewarded him with another smile. Soon I was in the taxi on my way back to the church parking lot where I would pick up my mom's car.
"Not a bad night's work," I thought as I clutched the $20 bill and cuddled into my light, transparent shawl in the back seat of the cab. Father Kincaid had gotten an eyeful of me, and I got to tease him and remind him of that kick in his groin, yet evade him at the reception.
More importantly, I was introduced as Dr. Phillips' girlfriend to his co-workers, who saw us dancing and kissing. Because of them, there would be no way, I thought, that he could start an investigation of Mr. Wallace's death involving me for months, if ever. He would be ridiculed viciously if everyone in his office knew that the girl he was kissing and calling his girlfriend was revealed to be a boy. By the time their memories faded, I'll be long gone to Chicago.
Not only that, but horrid Dr. Phillips, who drugged me and tied me up and blackmailed me, must have been the most surprised and disappointed man in the world to find I had left the room. I smiled as I imagined how his face must have looked when he realized that he was trapped in that room with no clothes, no phone, and unless he wanted to wander about the hotel in a towel, no way out until a maid arrived to clean the room in the morning. He'll find his clothes in his car eventually, but I figured he's going to be very mad for a very long time.
"Not a bad result for a few kisses and dances," I thought, feeling in control for the first time since my feminizing began. Just in case Dr. Phillips could somehow trace the cab from the hotel, I told the cab driver to let me off two blocks from the church. I gave him the $20 bill and told him to keep the change. I listened to my heels clicking on the pavement, my shawl wrapped tightly around my shoulders, feeling the breeze play with the skirt of my dress. It was lovely being a woman, even as I felt vulnerable walking in the dark toward the darkened church.
Finally, I arrived in the darkened church parking lot. There was a parked sedan in the distance, the only one there other than my mom's car, which I approached, reaching for my purse. Suddenly, the other car moved rapidly toward me, its flashing police lights illuminating the parking lot .. and me. The car screeched to a halt, terrifying me. The police car door opened and a 50ish, husky police officer got out with his gun drawn.
"Put your hands on top of the car!" he shouted.
"What?" I said, trembling. "I ... I don't understand."
My mind was going a mile a minute. I didn't think there was any way Dr. Phillips could have had this done this to me in such a short time.
"Put your hands on top of the car!" he ordered again.
Shaking now, I put my purse on the roof of the car and placed my hands on it. My shawl slid to the ground, my bare back revealed to the police officer who approached rapidly, his gun still drawn.
"Stay just as you are, Missy," he said. "I'm going to see that you're not armed."
The officer ran his rough hands down my arms to my torso and all the way down my back and sides to my ankles and up again, his hands lingering perhaps longer than necessary on my bare skin. Then he took my right wrist and then my left, pulled them behind my back and clasped handcuffs on them over my white gloves.
"Wha ... " I said, terrified. "Why ...? What have I done?"
The officer turned me around by my shoulders and looked down at me, his deeply lined face showing his disapproval.
"Such a pretty young girl," he said sadly. "You should be ashamed of yourself for stealing from a man of the cloth."
"What?" I said. "I don't know what you're talking about, officer."
He shook his head.
"If it was up to me, I'd run you in right now," he said, "but the good father wants to see you."
"The .... the father?" My legs felt weak and my head was swimming.
The policeman put my shawl over my bare back, picked up my purse and led me by the elbow through the darkness to the church rectory. Answering his knock on the door was huge, imposing Father Kincaid in his black cassock, his priest's collar still on. He smiled benignly.
"Ah, Timothy," he said to the policeman. "I see you've captured our thief."
The cop led me into the living room of the rectory. Apparently Father Kincaid had been alone in the house, awaiting our arrival.
"She showed up, just like you said she would, Father," said the policeman. "Good thing you knew what car she would be driving."
"Yes," said Father Kincaid, staring at me, "her mother is a fine, church-going woman. I've seen this car many, many times."
I turned to the officer, my wrists handcuffed behind me. My voice was cracking.
"Why am I here? What have I done?"
The policeman said that Father Kincaid had reported something stolen,
"It was his gold cross," the officer said. "I've seen him wear it many a time in church. The good father said he has reason to believe that you purloined it."
I struggled against the handcuffs, my shawl falling off my bare shoulders to the carpet.
"But I didn't," I protested. "I haven't taken anything!"
The policeman asked if I minded if he looked in my purse. I told him to go right ahead. He opened it and reached inside. To my horror, he pulled out Father Kincaid's gold cross.
"I didn't take that!" I kind of shouted, my voice shaky. "I don't know how that got ..." and then I figured it out. While I was dancing with Dr. Phillips in the hotel ballroom, Father Kincaid must have planted it in my purse. There was no way I could prove it, though. What a sly, evil thing for him to do. I was so frustrated and scared that I started to sob.
"You have the right to remain silent," the cop said. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney ..."
The room was swimming around me as I stood there in my lovely dress, my arms bound behind me. I heard Father Kincaid's firm voice.
"Hold on for a minute, Timothy," he said. "Billie here isn't really a bad girl. I'd like to counsel her privately, to convince her to see the error of her ways."
"No!" I pleaded with the policeman through my tears. "Don't leave me alone with him."
"OK," said the cop. "I'll take you down to the station now for booking. Where was I? If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. ..."
I thought about what being arrested would mean. The humiliation when it was discovered that I was a boy, what Mom and Dad would say. I'd almost certainly be forbidden to go to Chicago. My life would be over.
"Wait," I said reluctantly, my head down. "I changed my mind. I want to be counseled by Father Kincaid."
"I don't know, Father," the cop said. "She's a lot younger than you. She could be dangerous."
The priest smiled and patted the policeman on the shoulder.
"Fine, Timothy," he said. "Then leave the handcuffs on her. Come back in an hour and I'll decide then about whether I want to press charges."
"Well, all right, Father," said the cop. "But I've got to take my dinner break in about 45 minutes, so it'll be more like an hour and a half till I'm back, OK, Father?"
Father Kincaid looked me up and down as I stood there handcuffed in my beautiful dress, the old priest's craggy face breaking into a wide smile.
"No problem, Timothy," he said as he closed the front door behind the departing policeman and smiled evilly at me. "No problem at all."
End of Part 12. (To be continued.)