My Days Being Forced

TV, TS, Rape, Sex

My Days Being

Forced

By Amy Brett

Chapter 1

AT FIRST SHE was only quiet when I got home. It didn't take a mental giant to realize something was wrong. She wasn't talking. She was throwing things around in the kitchen.

When I went to the kitchen and asked if something was wrong, she threw me a withering look and continued her silent tirade, pursing her lips. I knew that was a very bad sign.

She glared at me through dinner. She answered my questions, that were quickly becoming shorter and less frequently asked, with monosyllables if at all. She frowned. I was getting worried and I was getting a headache from the tension. Christ, what had I done.

Linda and I have a happy marriage. We've been married for five wonderful years during which we have done virtually everything together. We love each other deeply. That's probably why the whole thing disconcerted me so much.

After dinner, she seemed to make a decision. She rose from the table and, a moment later, returned with a manila envelope. She put it under her left hand and only looked at me while drumming her fingers.

Then she looked as if she made a decision and slid the envelope to me. Wondering, I picked it up and opened it.

There was no way I could have anticipated this.

The top picture was of Tom Vasili and I, smiles on our faces and arms around each other's shoulders.

Tom Vasili. It had been a long time. A year before I met Linda, we had been best friends in college. She knew him too. And on the other side of me in the picture was Emily Van Horne. Oh, God, Emily!

The three of us had been inseparable for that one school year. We did homework together, we ate and drank together, and we discussed life and love and philosophy and God and ... everything.

It had been a wonderful time but had also been a frightening time. My ideas were challenged at every side. I tried grass and LSD. I spent the majority of that year high, mentally wild, and wonderfully alive and happy.

And I knew that I had tried almost everything that it was conceivable to try. And I didn't need the rest of the pictures to know, if not the particulars, the general thrust of what was being shown.

We had done it as a lark and as an experiment and ... I don't know. It was all stupid. But I didn't remember pictures being taken.

But here they were!

One picture showed me making love to Emily. Another showed me with my cock in her mouth. And, finally, the last showed me with my face almost buried between Emily's legs while Tom fucked me.

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

"I don't remember this happening," I said honestly. It could have happened. Certainly the evidence of the pictures said it had happened but I didn't remember it.

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

"No," I said quietly. "I don't think these leave much doubt. I couldn't deny it if I wanted to. But I don't remember it. I must have been high on something."

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

I could feel the blow coming.

"Eating her out?" I had done that once with Linda but I didn't really like it so didn't again. "You'll never do that with me."

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

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

I swallowed hard, trying to swallow the chunk of coal that seemed to have been stuffed into my throat.

"Where did these come from?" I asked.

"They were in the mailbox. About an hour later, somebody called and said the negatives are available for five thousand dollars."

"Five thousand! Good God!"

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

"Motherfucker!" she said with a quiet intensity.

"Honey, you've --"

"Shut up." I did. I knew anything I said couldn't help me. "We're not paying your buddies anything. Fuck them!"

"Good --"

"Shut UP! If they decide to go to the newspapers, what the hell," she continued. "None could print them. We don't have kids and both our parents are dead. Who the fuck are they going to show them to besides me?"

Again she glared.

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

"I --"

"Shut up," she said again intensely.

She stood up then and hauled back with her right arm. I cringed in spite of knowing that her punch is nothing to worry about greatly. We're about the same size but I at least like to think that I pack more of a wallop than she.

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

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It was before I even knew you," I streamed out before she could stop me.

"Doing things with her. The bitch. And worse with him. Good God. I'm so humiliated!"

"I'm --"

"Shut up."

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

"You couldn't do anything."

"Anything, sweetheart. Just --"

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

She paced the room, mumbling to herself and looking at the floor. I couldn't help but enjoy watching her as she moved in spite of her rage. Her short skirt flipped at the back of her knees as she walked, her high heels clicking on the tile of the floor. Her arms, crossed under her breasts, only held them up more firmly.

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

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

She walked across the room and grabbed hold of my shirtsleeve. "Come with me."

I went with her willingly since I wanted to do nothing else to infuriate her. She led me to our basement and I watched as she went through the trunks her mother had left her when she died. I didn't see what she was doing but she did it roughly, throwing things into a laundry basket, lifting it and leading the way back upstairs and into the bedroom.

As we crossed the doorway, she turned, still looking at me with that rage in her eyes.

"Strip. Now." I began taking my clothes off. After I took off my pants, she only gestured to take my underwear off and I did. I have rarely been as turned off and I was as soft as I have ever seen it.

"Poor baby," she said sarcastically. "You don't look excited. Shower," she said after looking at me for a while and, if possible, withering it still further with her look.

I did and, as I came out, found her standing with a straight razor in her hand. That really frightened me.

She knelt in front of me and began to shave the hair off my legs in long, almost careless strokes. The only thing she said to me as every leg hair was removed in the next 10 minutes was to stand still.

Then she smiled at me with an evil, mirthless smile and firmly grabbed my cock and balls in one hand, the other still filled with the razor. I held my breath as it came toward me.

In another five minutes she had trimmed off every pubic hair and, releasing me only then, stood back and admired her work. My balls hurt from the rough, tight hold she'd had on me.

Again I followed her to the bedroom. On the bed was a pile of women's clothes. I only looked at them.

Looking through the pile and moving things with her right hand, she held out a pair of black panties in her left. I only stood there with my mouth open.

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

I did. I noticed that the front of the panties held me, although to one side and the high sides kept them up. She turned and guided her fingers along the leg holes at the front of the panties, nestling them as close to my cock as possible. Then she walked behind me and roughly pulled the thin material into the crack of my ass and the hips as high as she could get them.

Sitting me down, she efficiently painted my toenails with brilliant red nail polish and indicated I should do the same with my fingers. Tentatively, I did as told.

Turning, she held out a pair of stockings and indicated I should put them on as well. With a great deal of difficulty, I finally got them both on. The elastic at the tops held to my thighs. The material felt wild as it seemed to trigger every nerve on my naked legs.

She indicated I should stand then and, moving behind me, strapped a black brassiere around my chest, the straps across my shoulders and the tight elastic clasping at my skin.

Moving in front of me, she began stuffing strange pieces of latex into the cups of the bra. I remembered her mother had had a mastectomy and these, undoubtedly, were the mastectomy pads she had had. As I moved, I found they felt like I imagined breasts would feel, both for weight and movement.

Then she held out the filmiest blouse she owned. She refused to wear it because it was too revealing, she said. Black, it was simple to see through.

Then she handed me the shortest black skirt I have ever seen. It must have been a hold- over from the 60's since I hadn't seen one like it since those wonderful days. Black too, it fell to high on my nylon covered thighs.

She threw me a wide red belt and I quickly put it around my waist. I had to hold my breath to fasten its six inches of sparkling leather width around my stomach and waist.

Then she sat me down at her makeup table looking away from the mirror, and began to apply things to my face. I could feel them and smell their feminine smells, but I couldn't see the effect. I sneezed at powder, cringed at plucked eyebrows, closed my eyes for mascara.

Again she turned and dropped a wig on my head and straightened it. The long hair fell below my shoulders in blond rings. I had seen her wear it once several years before but, she said, it was too hot and now wore only her own short hair.

Then she handed me a pair of black patent leather shoes and, as I slipped them on, I saw long, thin straps that circled my ankles and fastened. They felt very tenuous since they were a little too small for my feet but the strap held them on.

Now she stood me up again and, for the first time since I had gotten home, smiled pleasantly. I towered above her since I am normally a little taller than she but with the very high heels, it added at least 4 inches.

She slipped a pair of gold colored bracelets on my wrist and, as I squirmed again, clipped on a pair of large gold colored earrings.

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

I didn't know what she was talking about but walked around the room on the high heels anyway. They were not comfortable but I quickly saw that I could at least walk.

"Oh, one more thing," she turned again, unscrewed the cap of a jar I could not see, and walked behind me. "Bend over as far as you can."

I did, nearly falling over on my face but for catching the edge of the bed. I felt her throw the back of the skirt up over my back and touching my naked bottom. Then she pulled the material of the panties out of the crack of my ass.

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

"Spread your legs," she said. I stepped outward. "Further." I spread my knees shakily.

Then I felt something insinuating itself between my legs, into my ass, roughly. In, in, inward in a rocking motion backward and forward until I felt it very deep inside me. Then I felt more motion there and movement outward.

She tossed the pink plastic tube of a Tampax on the bed then but I still felt filled. Then she pulled the string and I knew that it was embedded deep within me. I moaned in humiliation.

"Oh, yes, sweetie," she said again with that dripping sarcasm. "You have to know what it's like to be a woman. I only have to live with this a week each month." Then roughly, she pulled the material of the panties back into the crack of my ass and pulled the skirt down.

"Stand up. See how it feels," she said. I did and could hardly keep my legs from collapsing with the feeling of it. It was uncomfortable and, with every movement, I felt it move. But somehow it was also very sensual.

"Look at yourself," she said with a "shame on you" kind of inflection, her arms crossed over her chest.

I looked into the mirror and couldn't believe it. There was a woman in the mirror. And actually, not a bad looking woman. Certainly the woman was a sexily dressed one.

She walked around in front of me then, a smile playing on her lips. She put a hand on each of my false breasts, squeezing them sexily as she looked me up and down.

"Now you're going to do a favor for me," she said nastily. "I want a newspaper." I thought wildly. There was a newspaper in the kitchen from yesterday. But I thought I knew, with a groan, what she meant. She wanted a new newspaper. "Today's," she said in case I had missed the message.

I visualized the newspaper rack in the lobby of the Holiday Inn on the busiest street in town where I sometimes got one on the way from the office. It was a block south and three blocks east from our house. More often than picking one up myself, I usually asked her to go down and get a paper after I came home.

"Come with me." She led the way from the bedroom to the front door and pushed me toward it as she opened it. "If you don't get the newspaper," she said with that hard edge to her voice, "you might as well stay at the motel. You won't get back in here." The door closed after she put a quarter in my hand.

I thought about going through alleys or back yards but quickly decided I couldn't do it in high heels and a short skirt. I was going to have to brazen it out and walk down the sidewalks. The skin of my neck crawled with fear.

I put my chin up and started walking.

Walking in the high heels was a true experience. I stumbled and clacked as I walked. My ankles hurt with the new and quite different pressures placed on them by the shoes.

But I noticed too that, as if manufactured for the purpose, they forced my hips to sway back and forth, making the skirt sway in opposition.

A block away from the house, I saw our car pass me with Linda not even glancing at me from the driver's seat. Two blocks away, a carload of teenage boys passed, hanging out of the windows and showering me in catcalls and lewd invitations. I cringed but walked on, ignoring them. They kept going, thank God.

I got a lot of attention when I reached busy Concord Street a block from the motel but all I could do was swing my arms (and my hips in the high heels) and walk on.

Finally I got to the Holiday Inn and walked through the front door and into the lobby.

It was a busy place with dozens of people walking around the open space. Several people were checking in at the desk, three or four sat in chairs talking.

I intended to walk directly to the newspaper rack, get a paper and leave as quickly as possible. It didn't work.

"Ah, there she is now," her voice said across the large room. I saw Linda and three men walking toward me. "If you ask her real nice, I'm sure she'll have a drink with us."

"Rita," she said as she grabbed my arm. "This is Bob and Bill and ... I guess I didn't get your name."

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

She leaned very close to me then and whispered, "You better find a woman's voice in there, sweetie."

I tried to think of what a woman's voice would sound like and pitched my normal voice slightly higher. "Nice to meet you. I hope you'll excuse me. I have to deliver a paper."

"Oh, you couldn't do that, Rita," Linda said brightly. "My friends want to buy us a drink and I told them all about you. How sexy you are."

I cringed again but nodded and accepted one of the men's arm, impossible to ignore or refuse. I smiled, trying to put on the best face I could with the terror climbing up and down my spine. She'd set me up.

They led me to a table in the bar and ordered drinks for all of us. I sat back, so nervous and frightened of discovery that I shook as if I were cold. One of the men noticed and gave me his coat that I gratefully draped across my shoulders. It covered up part of my almost uncovered upper body. It was also warm and a little sweaty.

Linda and the men did most of the talking. I only said something when a question was directed to me. I drank the foamy cream drink they had ordered for me and watched them.

Bob, I think it was, expended a lot of energy trying to hustle Linda. I seethed as I watched her lead him on. They danced and I watched her lean into him sexily, wrapping her arms around his neck. And I watched as he kissed her and she responded again.

It grated on me a lot as I watched her skirt ride up on the back of her legs as she stretched to drape herself on him. They barely moved around the floor. Really just an extended hug, their bodies moving slightly to the jukebox's music.

"Would you like to dance," Roger said near my ear. I was mad and decided she needed some of her own medicine.

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

He smiled brightly and led me to the middle of the dance floor. I realized belatedly that I didn't know how to dance as a woman but Roger didn't really give me opportunity to worry about it as he grabbed my left hand and put his arm around my back to hold me close to his body roughly.

I looked at Linda then and saw her glaring at me but, seeing that I'd noticed, purposefully ignoring me and repositioning her body even closer to Bob.

When we all returned to the table, I carefully arranged the short skirt to avoid giving myself away, crossed my legs, and continued to drink and listen to the talk. Still another in a series of drinks arrived and the men paid for them. I could feel the cold emanating from Linda as she sat next to me.

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

"No," she glared at me.

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

"Suffer," she said harshly.

I did for a while, watching as she danced two or three more times and refusing other offers myself. Obviously, my little attempt at revenge had backfired.

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

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

"You'll excuse us," she said to the men. "We have to adjourn to the powder room." She stood, even as my mouth dropped in disbelief, and grabbed my hand.

On the way through the lobby toward the restroom she leaned close to me again. "I'm going to check for that little string I put in before. It better still be there or I'll put in a new one myself."

I only nodded.

Still not believing it, I followed her as she led the way across the bar and into the lobby where the restrooms are. Knowing I couldn't go to the men's room, I followed her into the bathroom and, astonished, saw that three other women already occupied it.

She indicated the stall nearby and, not having a choice, I went to it, locked the door behind me, pulled down the black panties to my knees, and did what I had to do. Then I replaced the panties and unlocked the door.

The women combed their hair, freshened lipstick, and chattered. Finally they left, leaving Linda and I alone.

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

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

She giggled, I'm sure from the drinks and not from real mirth. "You're very pretty, sweetie. You've got nothing to worry about." I watched as she freshened her own makeup then turned and brushed my hair quickly where it had been mussed.

With a lewd movement, she reached around me, lifted the skirt slightly and searched until she found the string. She pulled it roughly, then, apparently satisfied, tucked it back into the back of the panties and roughly pulled them back between my ass cheeks.

"There," she said with a smile, looking at me. "As good as new." Then she lifted her skirt absently and pulled her blouse down. "No, wait," she said. Purposely, holding me with her look as a spider does a fly, she lifted the skirt high above her waist and pulled her own panties downward until she could step out of them. She wore the same kind of nylons she had forced on me.

"Now, what I'm going to do, my pretty girl, is put these in my purse. Then I'm going to go back to the table and get one of those guys to finger me to an orgasm. What do you think of that?"

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

"Forget it, sweetie. At least, I'm not making you take your panties off. And I could, couldn't I?"

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

"Yes, that's why I'm not doing that. But you just watch and see what I can get these guys to do."

She turned quickly and left the restroom then. I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I only followed.

I watched her after we returned to the table.

She hadn't any more than sat down when she leaned close to Bob's ear. I watched her pull her skirt high on her legs and look down at the naked skin above the nylons. Very nearly, she showed him her naked midsection.

Maybe she didn't expect what happened next.

Bob tapped Bill on the knee and whispered something in his ear. Then he stood and changed positions with Linda, giving her little choice in the matter.

I watched as the two men stared into space, at the dancing couples, at the bar and, simultaneously, allowed their hands to rest on Linda's knees. Their fingers traced little shapes on her nylon covered legs and, I noticed, gently pulled her legs further apart until her legs were wide.

Then Bill's hand moved upward on her leg until it went under her short skirt and began more movement there. I saw her tense as, obviously, they contacted something connected to her nervous system.

Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

Her eyes closed as the two men, working in concert, found her most sensitive spots and began moving on and in them. It was obvious to anyone looking that Bob had found her cunt and his finger was buried deep within it.

Her head went back and her mouth opened as they continued. Then, I saw, her body went rigid, the muscles of her legs vibrating, as a climax racked her body.

Roger chose that inopportune moment to ask me to dance. Since I couldn't stand the sexual tension of watching Linda, I agreed and followed him to the floor.

He held me closer than he had before and, before I could react, turned my face and kissed me on the lips very hard. His tongue forcibly spread my lips and delved into my mouth. His hand held my hand and my shoulder at once pulling my upper body off balance and into his body. His other hand, I felt then, slipped from my back to my bottom and clasped it roughly.

As the kiss extended, I found myself far less resistant to it, actually falling into it completely. I was so involved, actually, that I didn't feel his hand move down to the hem of the skirt I wore, under it and back up until his hand clasped my naked bottom. I knew, if she looked, Linda would see that I was exposed as would everyone else who looked.

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

He led me back to the table as the music stopped and I sat down. Immediately, I saw that Linda was still engaged. In fact, now she had a hand in each of the two men's laps as they unhesitatingly masturbated her. She was fully open to view from only slightly below her waist, down.

At once, as if my looking at them had keyed it, all three climaxed obviously and completely.

This time Linda recovered first and returned her hands to the arms of her chair. The two men only relaxed in theirs.

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

"I'd do that for you, too," he said, his fingers touching my leg and moving upward. It was tantalizing for a moment and I was slow in reacting. But I quickly put my hand on the back of his, stopping his upward progress short of his goal, thankfully.

"I think you better help your friends," I said. "And then we'll talk about it when you get back."

He looked at the two men, the stains soaking through their pants, and with a frown stood and walked behind them. He whispered something to them that I was sure pointed out their conditions. They quickly stood and left for the bathroom.

Equally as quickly, I stood and walked to Linda.

"Linda, we've got to go right now, while they're gone. If we don't, you're going to get raped and ... I don't know what's going to happen to me but I don't really think you want that. Please, let's go."

She looked around and made a decision. She stood, crooked a finger at me, and walked toward the door. I followed, then caught up and nervously even pushed her forward toward the outside.

We made it safely to the car and into it. Perhaps she had forgotten why I had been sent out. I didn't have a newspaper and had no intention of going back for one. I didn't have to walk back home again. A little drunkenly, I thought, she started the car, backed into the lot, and drove home. Once there, she unlocked the door and led the way in.

Relieved at being home, I quickly went to the bathroom as she moved on down the hall to the bedroom. Only a minute later, I got to the bedroom.

"You thought I had forgotten, didn't you, sweetie," she said from the middle of the room. She stood with her feet wide apart in the most aggressive stance I had ever seen her take. Her hands were on her hips. "You've still got some making up to do."

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

"Come here and unbutton my blouse." I did as I was told. "Take off my bra." I did. "Now suck my tits. This one first." I did and felt her hands pulling my face close to her randy body. She forcefully lifted my head and fed me the other breast after a few moments then, after another few minutes, pulled me away from her.

"Take off my skirt, sweetie. I always wanted to have a lesbian eat me out." I did as I was told, though with a great deal more willingness than most of the things she had had me do. She sat down on the dressing table, indicated I should kneel in front of her, and spread her legs wide. Then she entwined her fingers in the long hair of the wig and pulled my face harshly into her cunt.

"Eat me bitch! Suck it up in your mouth. Put your tongue in my cunt. Suck on my clit until I come."

Amazingly fast, she came magnificently then pushed me away again. I lost my balance and fell backwards on the floor.

"Now get on your hands and knees." I did and felt the firm pull of the string and, eventually, the loss of the Tampax. The skirt was now above my waist. Her finger twisted and turned as it went in my asshole until I felt her knuckles against my ass. After a few long strokes, I felt a second then a third finger. Her other hand wrapped around my manhood, sheathed in the thin panties still and pumped at it.

I felt my come rising then. Suddenly, she stopped. "No," she said. "That's too good for you."

As if she had had it planned, she pulled a pair of nylons from her drawer and tied my hands behind my back. Then she tied one to my left leg and to a leg of the couch. Then the other to the leg of the bed, pulling powerfully until I felt like a wishbone my legs were spread so far.

She inspected my asshole under me with her fingers and moved the material of the panties until I stood free of them. Then she lowered her body onto my cock until it was all inside her.

"Now, I'm going to rape you, you fucking asshole." And for the next two hours, she did -- magnificently.

Chapter 2

AS I WAS put to bed that night, I thought that Linda's anger had run its course. She even kissed me goodnight gently. But I was wrong.

Oh, I say "put to bed" in a literal sense. After she was through taking her anger out on my body, she gave me a long, flannel nightgown to put on over the bra and the returned panties. Then she led me to the spare bedroom and directed me into the bed, shut the door, and locked it behind her.

For the rest of that long weekend, I did everything she asked of me. The uncomfortable Tampax was renewed in my ass each time I had to expel it to got to the bathroom, the string frequently checked. In the house, she didn't require my dick to be tied up between my legs and around my waist as on our trip out. But it was returned each time she insisted on my running an errand, as were the high heels.

I wore a variety of women's clothing that weekend along with the makeup and wig. Generally these clothes were less revealing and somewhat more comfortable for me. Flat shoes or small heeled sandals replaced the high heels in the house. When I was wearing the women's pants one afternoon without nylons, she even allowed me to go barefoot.

I did all the cooking that weekend after cleaning house throughout the days. It wasn't an enjoyable weekend for me. Of that there was no doubt.

I cringed at what I feared she had in mind for me on Monday morning when she woke me and wondered if I could appear at work in a dress but she relented without discussion. The clothes she laid out for me that morning were my normal slacks, socks, shoes, shirt, tie and sports coat. But she only allowed me to take the breast forms out of the bra, the bra remaining. And the Tampax and panties remained with a garter belt and nylons.

It wasn't an overly hot day, but the combination of pants and stockings was quite warm. The fear of being caught wearing the panties and bra were a constant concern for me during the day.

If I thought there might be some other relenting in her attitude during the day, I was wrong. At about 2 in the afternoon, she stopped by my office and, insisting I loosen my pants, checked for the Tampax string. I hadn't dared remove it. I went home after work with a great deal of trepidation.

When I arrived, she immediately guided me to my room, where I now found my clothing and an interesting variety of women's clothes in the closet but only filmy women's underwear and stockings in the drawers. I was directed to dress "pretty" for dinner. She led me to the car after I had dressed, made up, and returned the wig to my head, and we went out to dinner.

At dinner, she leaned across the table and asked how I liked being her little sweetheart. Of course, I told her I loved it. Then the revelations began.

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

First she told me of her talk with my secretary that resulted in her disclosure of the night I had spent with her a year before. I'd done it once and realized I couldn't do it to myself or to Linda. Linda didn't care about any "after the fact" thoughts. Only about the initial indiscretion.

Then she told me about tracking down and finding George Marshall, a salesman for a company mine works with occasionally. George is quite thoroughly gay and, after a night of drinking, had convinced me that sleeping with him would be a very exciting experience. It had been but the look on Linda's face told me she didn't like it.

"It seems," she finally said, "that you find it impossible to maintain fidelity and even to maintain masculinity. You'd fuck anything, wouldn't you?"

I didn't have a leg to stand on and in the busy restaurant, I didn't want to loudly defend my actions either. Before the cognac, she passed me a tiny pill that she insisted I swallow. I did. Every morning and evening in the six months since then, she has given me another of the pills. It took a month and a pharmaceutical dictionary for me to identify them -- Estrogen along with a complex of other female hormones and catalysts.

I noticed their result first as my sexual desire diminished to nothing almost immediately. During the first week, my nipples became sensitive and somewhat swollen along with being quite red. After a month, the swelling of my chest was obvious and the increased size of my nipples was notable. After the second month, I could easily form a cleavage of my own flesh with the breast forms to fill out my bras. After three months, I could have worn an A-cup bra without the breast forms and my nipples were as large as Linda's. Thankfully, my sex drive returned at about this time.

Conversely, my balls began to shrink and my production of semen tapered off to almost nothing. When Linda insisted on my tying back my dick, it no longer hurt where my testicles were pressed even when I sat with my legs crossed tightly.

I think that was about the time Linda made me climax for the first time by touching and sucking on my nipples.

After that Monday dinner out, her disdain for me grew steadily, particularly during the months when I couldn't get hard enough to satisfy her in her semi-rapes.

It's now been six months. At night, I can wear a C-cup bra without any breast forms and even went out one night with a low cut dress on that showed a considerable decolletage.

It is a strange existence. I spend the workday, my chest wrapped with an ace bandage, and my much longer hair tied in a hippie-like tail nearly too long to pass for male. On a good night, I am her plaything, her experiment. On a bad night, I'm almost her slave, doing all the work around the house and taking her verbal abuse. We've only been out of the house at night twice. Once, as I told you, in a low cut dress and once earlier in a more conservative blouse and skirt.

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

Oh, yes, and last night. Friday night.

Last night, she had me dress very conservatively in a pair of women's slacks and blouse. High heels of course. We never leave the front door at night unless I'm wearing them. But no stockings, no low cut outfit. No outrageous jewelry. Even minimal makeup.

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

Her hairdresser lives in the back of her little two chair shop and Linda had made special arrangements with her to work on me. She told her it would be a challenge. Pam seemed to enjoy what challenge there was left after this six months of treatments of all sorts.

She started by giving me a permanent and styling my long hair into a series of soft waves. Then she did a complete manicure and pedicure. Now I know I can't have a traffic accident and end up in the hospital. Most embarrassing, Linda paid for me to have a wax job on my legs. It was unbelievably painful as the hot wax was put on them and then systematically torn off along with the remaining hair.

Luckily, since this girl sincerely believed me to be Linda's female cousin, Linda didn't let her do the bikini wax. That she saved for when we got home. Have you ever plucked a nose hair or a vagrant eyebrow? Or pulled a Band-Aid off a hairy part of your body? Imagine that times about a million and you get some idea of the pain.

The only repayment for that was that she showed me her own wax job, done a few days ago. That ended the evening when she allowed me to eat her completely naked slit while she had numerous orgasms.

I worked hard today to get the house looking perfect under her tight direction. The only enjoyable part being not having to wear the sweaty wig but, rather, enjoying my own nicely done hair.

She had me start a beautiful dinner for four about an hour ago after, of course, doing the shopping for it. Filets, baked potatoes, vegetables, green salads, the works. A few minutes ago, she took over, starting the potatoes, and sent me to shower and "get beautiful."

After my shower, I made up the best I know how and fixed my hair. The permanent makes that easy. It combs out beautifully and large, unruly waves surround my face and neck.

I put on my prettiest black lace bra, garter belt, and black nylons. I choose my A-line little black dress with the low cut in front and back and short skirt. I've lost three inches off my waist in the last six months and the A-line clings to it really nice. I'm proud.

I chose my nicest black panties and return to the bathroom. I've gotten used to inserting the Tampax myself now and it comes as naturally as the unnatural act of putting a bra on. As I get ready to do that, the door opens and Linda's smiling face peeks in. "That won't be necessary, sweetie," she says. "I think you've been on the rag for long enough. Don't you?"

I nod and smile. Though I've gotten used to having the plug in my ass all the time, I still haven't learned to like it and it is a constant and continual irritant. Now, as I make a final check of my looks in the mirror, it feels very strange and liberated to not be wearing the Tampax.

"Here," she says as I return to the bedroom to shut off the light and get my shoes. She holds up the bottle of her favorite perfume. "Just a touch behind each ear, the back of your knees and the creases of your thighs. Okay?" I smile. This must be some other recognition of her love for me.

I sit down, pull the nylons down and put a drop behind each knee before replacing the nylons and putting on my panties. I put a drop in the fold of my thighs and wipe my wetted finger across my tummy. When I stand up, I reorganize my dick so it is between my legs where it belongs, and pull up the panties tighter. This works just fine.

I touch more of the perfume behind each ear and then in the cleavage between my full breasts.

Coming back into the room, she hands me a pair of her sapphire earrings. They're beautiful. I put them in my pierced ears, a result of one night with an ice cube. As I look at them in the mirror, I'm glad she pierced them, though I didn't enjoy it at all at the time.

She puts her long gold chain necklace with the single large sapphire pendant on it around my neck so it settles in my cleavage. I turn to her with my appreciative smile broad on my face and she smiles back at me. I risk smearing both our lipsticks by kissing her softly.

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

"Thank you," I say, feeling myself blush. Except for her mean, cynical times, she's never said that to me before. Those earlier times weren't meant as compliments and weren't taken that way.

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

"Company? Who?" I ask.

"Some friends of mine. I think you'll like them," she says as she turns to the door. "I know they'll like you."

I followed her downstairs and into the living room where we sat down. I enjoyed looking at her and the way her short dress showed the sides of her thighs. Looking down, I realized her view of me was much the same. It was very strange still, for me.

"Would you make me a drink, sweetheart?" she asks. She has only demanded for six months. I wonder at the change but leap to do it for her. "Actually, while you're there, why don't you make a pitcher of martinis." Changing direction from a single glass to the pitcher, I quickly make the drinks. "Please, have one yourself, baby."

I haven't had a drink for six months. Actually, I'm a little afraid it'll go to my head but it sounds so good, I get out two glasses and pour them on top of the speared olives. The doorbell rings and I start to answer it before she says, "I'll get it, my little lover."

I take the martinis to the living room and watch as she opens the door. A tall, very beautiful woman wraps her arms around Linda and exclaims. "Oh, Linda! You have such a wonderful house! And such a neighborhood!" They kiss on the lips, I notice but this isn't too unusual for women. It's the first time I've ever seen this woman. Of that, I'm sure.

"Hi, Linda. You look fantastic!" the man says as he holds her arms wide, his eyes traversing her from top to bottom as she twists from one side to the other to best show it off. He takes her in his arms and her leg lifts at the knee when he kisses her roughly and thoroughly. I don't know him either.

"That dress must have cost you a fortune, Francie," Linda says. I see that it is a very fashionable crisscross front blue dress in a light material. The hem is tuliped, I think it's called, splitting at the bottom in rounded corners. It's quite short. The top seems to only barely constrain her considerable breasts. Her long blond hair falls across her chest, the tips at the bottom of the low cut neckline.

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

The man is wearing a casual leisure coat over white pants and white shoes. His pink shirt is unbuttoned to show the profuse hair of his chest and several gold chains. He looks very fit.

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

They come into the living room, Linda and Francie with their arms around each others' backs.

Francie breaks away and rushes to me.

"This just has to be your Amy!" she exudes as she holds my arms out to my sides as well, looking me up and down as she did Linda. "Yes, yes! She's as pretty as you said she was!"

"I would say you understated," Ivan says. "Ivan Borosky at your service," he says as he kisses the back of my hand. It tickles with his mustache and sends a charge of feeling up my arm. Now I know why women like this little continental gesture.

"Nice to meet you both," I say as sweetly as I can. "Would you like a martini or can I make you something else.

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

"Please," she says from behind him.

I turn to fill two more glasses. As I do, I listen to the conversation in the other room.

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

"But you didn't tell us she was so pretty!" he adds. "How in the world have you done it?"

I feel uncomfortable being discussed so candidly. I wonder what Linda has told them.

"It really hasn't been too hard," Linda says. "We'll see tonight how well I've done."

"I'm sure," both the other voices say. I vow that I'll try my best at whatever Linda wants. I return with the drinks and find them all sitting down. I notice that Francie's skirt opens high onto her crossed thigh showing that she is wearing pantyhose. Otherwise the garter and top of her stockings would be showing. It is that high. She has beautiful long legs.

I put the drinks down in front of them and, looking up a little, see that Ivan is staring down my cleavage. Bent over like this, he can probably see my bellybutton. I straighten quickly and go to my chair where I carefully sit and cross my legs away from them to maintain some of my modesty at least. I've had enough instruction from Linda in how to behave as a lady.

"So, Linda tells us that this is kind of your coming out party, Amy," Francie says. I don't know how to answer. They have to know that I'm too old to be having any kind of coming out party unless they know more about me than I hope Linda has told them. I decide to speak to the best possibility.

"Yes. I'm trying my hand at being the good hostess tonight." Ivan chews on his olives as he continues to smile and stare at me disconcertingly. His eyes too often dwell on either my legs or my cleavage to be comfortable.

"I think you're doing beautifully, sweetheart," Francie says, leaning to pat the back of my hand and, in the process, showing me her assets down to her own bellybutton.

"You have a fine hand with a martini," Ivan says and I see that his glass is empty. Quickly, I go to the kitchen and get the pitcher, along with a large coaster to keep the dripping container from staining the table. I pour new drinks into each of their glasses, seeing each of their eyes looking down the front of my dress as I do it. I squat slightly to set the pitcher down in the middle of the table and see Ivan's eyes now on my legs.

I return to my chair and, flushed with embarrassment at the inspection I've been getting, drink my own martini, stand and pour myself another, and return to the chair.

"I think we need some more olives as well, Amy," Linda says. I see that she's right and go back to the kitchen. While I'm there, I check the potatoes and find them ready.

"Linda! It's just amazing!" Francie is saying in the other room. "She's just so perfect!"

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

"Oh, I think you're being too hard on yourself. I agree with Francie. Perfect." I return with a plate of olives on skewers and set it down on the table. Everyone's eyes are again on my chest. It makes me very nervous.

"So what have you been doing since the last time we saw you at the club?" Ivan says to Linda.

"Oh, I have my work cut out for me here," she says. That, for the last few months, has been telling me what to do next. I finish my martini and pour another for myself and for Ivan, who has also finished. As I stand back up, I realize I can feel the effects of the two drinks already. I sit down carefully and work to pull my skirt down to a reasonable level. When I look up, everyone's eyes are on me. I blush.

I watch them for a while then as they talk of mutual acquaintances at "the club." They must be talking about the place where Linda works out and plays racquetball a couple of times a week. It also includes a very nice lounge so any good done by the exercise is immediately destroyed by a few drinks. It's mostly a gathering place for the "beautiful" people.

"Amy," my wife says then. "It's time to put the steaks on." I nod and leave the room. I can hear them talking but I can't hear what they are saying now. I guess it doesn't matter. I really don't seem to have much to talk to these people about anyway.

I put the salads on the dining room table and return to move the finished steaks onto a plate to keep warm in the oven. The potatoes come out and into a bowl and the vegetables into a serving dish to join the steaks.

I return to the living room and call everyone to the table. Ivan brings my martini with his. I see the pitcher is empty. He sets the drinks down and then holds my chair for me before doing the same for the other two women. He sits on my right.

"Would you open the wine, Ivan?" Linda says. We all watch as he opens, pours a small amount, and swirls the wine before tasting it. Then he pours for each of the rest of us.

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

"Yes," I answer. Another of my duties during the last six months has been planting and caring for the flower garden.

We eat and, for the first time since they arrived, they are paying attention to something besides me. It gives me a chance to let go of the abject terror I've been feeling since the doorbell rang. I loosen up somewhat but what I really feel is the butterflies in my stomach. My God, I think. What would they think of me if they knew? I close my eyes as I chew a succulent bite of steak, maybe enjoying the slight dizziness I feel from the martinis.

"This is just absolutely wonderful!" Francie says, speaking to me. I thank her quietly. "Perfectly done!"

"They say the way to a man's heart ..." Ivan says with a smile as he sits back from his empty plate. "You've certainly gotten to mine."

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

"I'll get the cognac if you'll get the coffee, sweetheart," Linda says then. Knowing my duties, I stand and get the coffee pot and the warmer to set it on. I pour for each of them, noticing Linda's eyes sparkling with her pride in me. I like that. She has already poured the small amounts of cognac in the brandy snifters and Ivan swirls his and breathes in the released vapors. I can remember doing that sort of thing when I was more ostentatious. Now, I only savor the fiery liquid, washing it past my tongue with hot coffee.

The combination of martinis, wine, and cognac is going to my head. I can definitely feel it making me reel a little with their combined effects. It gives me a heady, giddy feeling that I like as long as I'm in control of it but I can sense the abyss that stretches fairly near by.

"Let's move to where it's softer," Linda says and leads the way into the living room. I start to pick up the dirty dishes in hopes that the effort, with the dishwashing, will clear my head. "No, no," she calls back to me. "I'll help you with that later, darling. Come and join us now."

I almost look at the dirty dishes with longing, partly because of the hope they hold out to me of sobering somewhat and partly because I can see them already when the meat juices have cooled and hardened onto their surfaces if put it off.

I'm a bit put out when I get to the living room. Linda is sitting in my chair and Francie is sitting in hers.

"Please," Ivan says, standing. "Come sit here beside me." Squeezing between him and the coffee table, uncomfortably close to him in the passage, I move to the open spot on the couch near him. Before I can sit down, Francie moves over to the end where I intended to sit, forcing me between the two of them. I think about moving to Linda's chair but the effort just seems too much. I sit down with my coffee and cognac. I'm not going to drink any more, I decide.

Francie turns on the couch toward me, her legs brushing against mine as her hand strokes my shoulder.

"You did an absolutely wonderful job with dinner! And the table! Beautiful! I just can't imagine a more well done meal. Like it was catered after all!" She turns to Linda, who is leaning her smiling face in her palm, relaxed. "You must be very very proud of her!"

I enjoyed the praise but somehow the profusion seems to smack false somehow. I notice, distinctly, Francie's hand resting on first the tip of my shoulder, then nearer my neck, then on my neck.

"I must say," Ivan says from my other side, "that I have honestly never seen a finer meal, better served." His hand rests in the small of my back as I sit poised on the edge of the couch's cushion.

I thank them but this is really getting to be a bit much. I was good. But not this good. My head is fuzzy and now the fuzzy is becoming more unpleasant. I sip at my coffee in an attempt to dull the buzz I'm feeling.

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

My dulled brain seeks for an answer of some kind but it really isn't functioning at full potential at all. Any quick responses I might have been able to form a few hours ago are long gone. They've probably been gone since the first martini. I shrug, hoping this is enough.

"Tell them, Amy," Linda commands with a smile. I only look at her for a second, wondering what she wants me to say. She seems to understand and her look hardens. "Tell them the truth, Amy."

I gulp. I know now a little of what Linda has done tonight. The two people at my sides, when I look at them, each smile but now I know. It is another part of my "education." I wonder if I'm going to enjoy it. I somehow doubt it if it is anything like the last few months of my life. But I am resigned. I can't be otherwise.

"You know most of it, don't you?" I ask, looking into Ivan eyes. He smiles. "Don't you?" I ask Francie. She smiles and nods once.

"Please tell us what you are feeling, Amy," Ivan says with more sincerity than I've heard in a while. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

"What do you want to know?"

"What does it feel like, sweetheart?"

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

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

"About as different as possible," I answer. "Imagine, if you can't imagine my condition, what it would be like to be a normal, comfortable American one minute and the next a pygmy somewhere in the jungle. It couldn't be any more different."

"That unpleasant?" Francie asks with a bit of derision. After all, she is a woman.

"Maybe that's overstated," I say. "Maybe more like being stripped naked and left in the middle of downtown at rush hour, Francie."

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

"Except, perhaps you'd have a group of ready helpers," I say. "A group of women perhaps who would hide you and offer their coats. Or a group of men who would see that you got inside somewhere and taken care of."

"You mean Linda has been that hard?" Ivan asks, looking at Linda. I see her frown.

"I hurt her," I say. "I think I've deserved much of it. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel alone in a very strange situation. Or maybe a whole set of situations. Every situation, in fact."

"But Linda is here to guide you. Even to tell you what you need to do next." I nod.

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

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

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

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

"That's all right. I don't really mind. This stage. Constantly worrying about being caught. This is hard and frightening. The underthings at work. Answering the door here. There's fear all the time."

I wonder if I dare. I look at Linda and see her frown. I don't think she's happy with me. Then she surprises me and sits forward in her chair.

"You both know who Amy is. I've told you and I've told you what's going on. Maybe I didn't tell you how it all started for us a few months ago." Ivan's hand still rests in the small of my back, rubbing it. Francie's hand is still on my neck, under my hair in the sensitive short hair there. Occasionally they both move their fingers over me.

For the next 15 minutes, she tells them about my early infidelity and the anonymous letter that started this whole thing. Then she shares my more recent infidelities with my secretary and with George Marshall. She tells them that I have craved being a woman for a long time and I wonder if that's really true. Perhaps it is but I know I would never have gone this far if she hadn't insisted.

It is strange. Often in the last few months, I've thought that I deserved this punishment for my infidelities and for my more private thoughts and actions. Linda has forced me to tell her everything I've thought or done in my life at some time during the last six months.

As she recites these things back, I feel a tension in Ivan and Francie's hands and their movements on me. They don't like these things about me as I don't. Also, though, I feel their sexual excitement as some things are revealed. Francie sighs and squirms occasionally. Ivan smirks or maybe it's just a grin of appreciation. I'm not sure.

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

"She deserves the punishment," Linda concludes, obviously without requiring their agreement in the least. It's just a statement of fact.

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

"Oh, yes. Very nicely," Linda answers. "Show them, baby." I look at her wondering what she wants of me. I really don't know if she means my domestication or my physical body.

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

"I want you to pull down the top of your dress and show them your beautiful breasts," she says rather too sweetly. I look at her for confirmation and the shine in her eyes tells me that is exactly what she wants. Now I'm very very nervous. I've never done this.

Slowly, I pull my dress off one shoulder and Francie shifts to a position where she can see better. Then I pull the other shoulder down. The shoulder straps hold my arms to my sides until Ivan pulls one below my elbow. His hand comes to my lace covered breast, rubbing the nipple through the thin material. Gasping slightly in surprise, I feel Francie undo the bra in back and then they both pull it down my arms until my breasts stand free of the material for their inspection.

I see Linda is sitting on the edge of her chair, a broad smile on her face. She seems very pleased.

I gasp again as Francie's fingers find my nipple and squeeze it softly, rolling it sensuously. Thus diverted, my attention is quickly drawn back when Ivan licks my other nipple and the nerves in it fire throughout my body. They have pushed the top of my dress and my bra off my arms altogether, the dress gathered about my waist.

"We're both going to take you, Amy," Francie breathes into my ear. "That's why Linda brought us here tonight."

"Oh, no," I moan, the feelings in my breasts beginning to overwhelm me now. "No, please."

"Yes," Ivan says as Francie sucks my other nipple. "I'm going to fuck your mouth. And then I'm going to fuck your ass." I moan and try to move away. His mouth lowers to my nipple.

"While Ivan fucks your ass, you're going to fuck me with your tongue until I come all over your face. And then I'm going to come again on that little boy pole of yours, before you lose it."

This is no longer even a little pleasant. I'm frightened and I'm trapped. But somehow I feel the anticipation of what's to come. It's tearing me apart. Their touches on my body are driving me wild, my dick hard and still stuck between my legs uncomfortably. My nerves are firing throughout my body but they don't seem to have a focus.

They continue to touch me but now guide me to my feet, taking me to the circular hassock at the end of the couch. They seat me on it, each holding my arm nearest them and, at the same time, my breasts -- my nipples. Linda slides in between Ivan and me almost as if he was being cut out.

The way she holds my biceps hurts, her fingers digging into my flesh. I wonder still again if what I've done was really this bad.

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

She is pushing me down onto my back with Francie's help and I can't free my hands to stop myself. I'm frightened and look from one to the other. I'm sure my fear is in my eyes.

They've laid me down on my back, my head back to the edge of the hassock. I close my eyes and feel, even more acutely, their hands play on my naked front. I try to twist, putting one leg over the other, but they won't allow it and they are strong enough to hold me where I am.

I hear myself moan when Francie's hand begins to stroke the inside of my thigh. I clasp them tightly together but it really doesn't help. I'm losing myself in this. In another circumstance, I think I could enjoy it. Being forced makes it less fun.

"Come, my darling," Linda hisses near my ear. "You might as well relax and enjoy it. It's going to happen with or without your help. Open your eyes now."

They are clenched tightly closed as if I can keep it all from happening if I don't look.

"Open your eyes now, Amy," Linda says more harshly. I don't. "Right now!" It's a command. I open my eyes and wish that I hadn't.

Ivan has stripped and stands above my face as I lift my head a little. My head now is almost between his knees. All I can really see is the look on his face. One of lust and enough of a grimace that I wonder if it is cruelty. But that is beyond my primary focus. His dick is between me and his face, standing out from his body at a 90 degree angle. It throbs with his excitement and appears to be very hard.

It's not overly big around, only a little more than my own now. But is very long. At least 9 inches with its wet head just peeking from the loose skin of the hood. He's uncircumcised. I've never seen anyone who wasn't circumcised.

Francie's hand is between my legs, rubbing the inside of my thigh. I gulp through my dry mouth but I can't take my eyes from it, like a cobra with a mesmerized rat. And I'm the rat.

"Ah, the perfect angle," he says as he lowers himself to his knees. Sitting back, he kisses me sensually on the lips, his tongue delving into my mouth, my view of his strong neck. Both his hands take my breasts roughly and knead them until it is almost painful before easing, then repeating the action.

God, I'm getting turned on and I can't. I just can't. It can't be possible. But I'm breathing hard and answering his probing tongue, circling it with my own.

"She's ready," he declares as he straightens from my mouth. Then he rises onto his knees and I see that his dick is lined up with my face.

His hands wrap in my long hair, pulling my head back around the edge of the hassock. It's almost impossible to keep my mouth shut.

"Now open, baby," he says softly. "Kiss it for me. Kiss it now." He's still whispering. When I open my eyes now, all I can see is his balls hanging beneath that long tool. It seems much shorter from this perspective. I know what he wants but I can't bring myself to it. "Please kiss it."

It touches my lips and I shudder. The other time, the guy I was with only wanted to suck me and then for me to fuck him. I remember those long years before to that picture that started this whole thing. But I don't really remember when I'd been fucked. This is different. Completely different. I know I've never sucked another man and I don't want to now.

"Kiss it, Amy," Linda urges. "Kiss it or you'll be punished. And if you cooperate, you will earn a lot from me. More than you can imagine."

I wonder what she could possibly be saying but for some reason the combination of threat and promise make the idea more palatable, more possible. I shape my lips and kiss it and Ivan shudders. I feel the wetness of it on my lips.

"Lick your lips, Amy. Lick your lips," she almost whispers. I do, as much to try to alleviate my dry mouth as to do her bidding. It tastes salty. Not unpleasant but still. I don't want to do more.

"Lick it, sweetheart," Ivan says softly. "Lick it nice for me." I shake my head. Then I feel Linda's hand on my nipple. She has it firmly in her grasp.

"Lick it like he says, Amy. Right now." She pinches my nipple until I clench my eyes with the pain. I shake my head with the pain and know I can't get out of this situation. I feel so totally helpless.

"All right!" I finally almost scream and immediately her fingers loosen. Opening my eyes again, I see that he is holding it close to my lips and I extend my tongue to lick the head now.

"Oh, yes," he moans as he moves it around on my tongue. I know what's to come and I know I can't fight it. Linda will just make it more painful for me if I resist.

"Good girl," she sighs. "Good girl." She says it as if I were a tiny youngster. "That's it. Keep it up."

I lick around the head, pausing at the little hole in the tip. His hand has skinned the cloak back from the tip and it flares like a mushroom. It's purple with his swollen need.

"Now take it in your mouth," he says in the same soft voice. "Just a little. Softly. Easy now." I let it slide past my teeth. It's not very big around but I can see that so much of it is still there. His hand is wrapped around it and still a couple of inches separates the hand from my lips. "That's it, baby. Just a little. Take it in."

I swallow hard from my dry mouth, my throat clenching tight in this unnatural position. Linda's fingers are still touching my nipple but they are very gentle and loving, inflaming it instead of hurting it. Francie's hand is between my thighs, softly kneading the skin.

"A little more, now," he says as he moves it further into my lips. "Shield your teeth with your lips. Yes. That's it. Nice. Good." His hand and my lips meet. My tongue can move around on the shaft and I see that it makes him shudder. He moves back out somewhat, then slowly back in to the fingers again.

"Now, Amy," he says and I can feel a change coming. "I want you to suck on it. Okay? Just suck."

I know that I must but it takes a second. I swallow again. Yes, I can do it. I suck gently.

"Ah, yes," he says louder, impassioned. "That's it. Yes. That feels so good." I shut my eyes and time my sucking to his in and out movements., mixing them from sucking on the in stroke to sucking on the out stroke. Yes, this is going to be all right, I think.

This time when I open my eyes I see that he's let go of it now. I feel his hands go instead to my breasts with loving movements. He's moaning with his movements.

More than half the long tool is going into my mouth on the in stroke now.

"Now more, baby," he says sweetly, softly squeezing my full breasts. "I won't keep it in for long so don't panic. Okay?"

This time when he pushes in, he keeps going until I feel the still dry skin past where it has been in my mouth before and I swallow again. When I do, I feel my throat clasp around the head at the back of my mouth. He immediately pulls back out as I start to gag. I control it.

This time I know what to expect and as his stroke extends into my mouth, I don't swallow. But I feel the still dry skin again and feel it enter the tighter space of my throat for a split second before withdrawing. It's all right. I CAN do it.

This time, when he comes in faster, I feel his pubic hair against my lips and his testicles against my nose before he pulls back out. I took it all! I suck it as it retreats to my lips and nearly slips out.

Immediately, it returns, the pubic hair is pushed hard against my lips and I can feel his cock well into my opened throat. He pulls out faster. I moan around it.

"You little cocksucker," Linda says rather sweetly, a smile in her words. "I knew it." I don't know whether it's a strange kind of praise or another in her endless string of sarcasms. But, without a doubt, I am a cocksucker now.

He speeds up his strokes, his hands moving more on my breasts, perhaps a little more roughly. I have to work very hard not to think of my own bent dick, bent and painful in its hardness.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck. You're so good. Yes. Yes." I can hear his climax in his voice.

I actually moan with the loss of it when he pulls free of my mouth.

"Now," Linda says as I feel her pull my arm roughly, turning me onto my stomach. I roll onto my other arm for a minute before I can get it out from under me. Francie immediately grabs it by the wrist as my legs fall off the side of the hassock.

In shock, I look behind me and see Ivan lift the back of my skirt and throw it above my ass. He grabs the side of my exposed panties and easily snaps the material at my hip. The rest of the destroyed article drops down my other leg. I can feel the material burned spot on my waist where it was ripped apart.

Clearing his throat grossly, he spits and I watch it fall onto my naked ass. He does it again and I feel it roll down the sensitive skin.

"No!" I exclaim but it doesn't matter. He aims his purple head between my legs and I feel it pushing between the cheeks of my ass. I try to straighten up and am held down by the two women at the same time that he roughly pushes my legs apart.

Then he presses harder and it feels like the worst shit I even had to take.

"Relax, sweetie," he says, the lust in his voice plain. He's not gentle now. I feel it press harder and try to relax my sphincter, knowing that it only hurts worse if I'm tight like this. But it doesn't slow him. He presses harder through the slippery mucus he's deposited there.

I'm going insane with the pain for a moment, tossing my hair wildly and silently screaming, not loading the scream with the breath I can't seem to gain. Then, as if that were all it was waiting for, I feel the head of his cock gain entry and the pain recedes to more manageable levels. It's still there but now it is like taking a shit you can't get rid of. I shift my legs as I might to help in ridding myself of this turd.

I hear him sigh. "God. Tight." He's moaning the words. "God. So tight."

He presses forward again and the pain returns somewhat but it's different. He begins to rock in and out. I can feel it gaining further entry to me. Further and further. Pressing against my prostate. Rubbing it. I'm breathing very hard now, searching for enough air to survive. My hands are tightly clasped to the edges of the hassock. The women aren't really holding me now.

I can feel his thighs against my cheeks now and know he is all the way inside me. His hands come to my shoulders, pulling himself tighter into me, massaging as he pulls out somewhat, then pulling hard again until his thighs again contact my skin.

It feels good. Oh, it feels wonderful. Oh.

My own dick is pointed toward the floor between my protecting thighs, held in this position because I'm pressed so firmly against the side of the hassock. Pumped into the side of it actually. Over and over. Wonderfully pressed into it.

God, I can feel him deep, deep in my insides. His cock fills me completely. Wonderfully. "Oh, yes," I scream now. This time it is aloud. "Yes!"

I feel his body lose coordination as his climax is pulled out of him. I thought it couldn't get any better than those last few minutes. But now I feel his hot seed shoot deep into my insides, far past where his hardness extends. That's all it takes. All I can stand.

My back arches and my eyesight loses coherence. My blood roars through my ears. And my orgasm wracks my body. I can feel it surging out of me in thick waves as my body clenches with it. I don't remember anything like it in my life.

He pulls out most of the way and plunges back in with a loud moan, then spews again inside me. He does it once more before his body relaxes around my back.

"Oh, my god," he moans through his quickened, deep breaths. "Unbelievable."

He pulls back then, still holding my shoulders, until I feel him slowly retreat from my asshole. My body responds to only the last inch, finally expelling him and letting me sink into the hassock. I think I'm going to pass out here with it.

"I can hardly believe it, ladies," Ivan says. "I really think that was the best fuck I ever had." He laughs. "I know it was the tightest."

"Come back around here, Ivan," Linda says. "I want that hard again."

"Oh, baby. I don't think that's possible. At least not for a while." Linda sighs, the displeasure cutting through my silky blue afterglow now.

"Then, dammit, help me out," Francie's voice says near my head. "C'mon, guys. Help me pull her down a little."

I feel Ivan's strong hands on my waist then, lifting a little and pulling me back until I am solidly on my knees and only my breasts and shoulders still rest on the hassock. I feel movement but I'm still in a haze.

"Okay, sweetheart. Time for your new girlfriend."

I open my eyes and see that Francie is sitting on the hassock in front of me now with her skirt pulled up around her waist. I can see the considerable wetness glistening in the thick mat of hair between her legs. When I lift my head, she slides her middle beneath it, her legs over my arms, trapping them.

Leaning on one elbow, she pushes my face down between her legs roughly, shifting and squirming until my mouth is in the folds of her labia. She is very strong smelling.

"Now stick that beautiful little tongue out there and lick up all that nice girl come." Though I'm exhausted, I can do nothing but hope that I can do it quickly so I can rest.

She leans back further, making herself more accessible, as my mouth lowers to her nether lips. Her center is bucking wildly by the time I finish licking her out, from deep inside her cunt to her asshole and back. When I press my tongue to the underside of her large clit and clamp it against my upper lip, she can hardly stay on the hassock. When I suck it into my lips and lick it with my tongue tip at the same time, she climaxes terrifically, almost falling off the hassock in her frenzy. It can't have taken 5 minutes.

Carefully now, wanting to get away from my continuing licks, she moves off my arms. I collapse back onto my butt on the floor, my head on the hassock.

I'd like to just sleep for about two days now.

"No, no, sweetie," Linda says. "We have to do some clean up and wake up now."

She guides Ivan into a sitting position under the place where my head had been lying only a second before she had Francie pull me back. I see that, though he is not hard, he is not completely soft either. He must have enjoyed my work with Francie. Sitting on the edge of the hassock now, he helps Linda guide my mouth back onto his cock. His hand on the back of my head, presses down each time he is almost completely out of my mouth. I try to make him come quickly so it will be over. He is very hard again.

"Now, my turn," Linda says. Pushing me back onto my haunches, she turns her back to Ivan and, her skirt hiked onto her hips and panties off, holds his hard dick as she sits down onto it. I watch as that length sinks into her until she is sitting fully on his lap. She lays back against him and kisses him over her shoulder before his hands cup her tits and his middle begins to pump into her cunt. He spreads her legs onto the outside of his, then spreads his own, even further splitting her. Francie nudges me from behind.

I lean forward and begin licking the widely opened stretch of her crack from the pumping dick that pulls her lubrication out with it, up to her clitoris. Each time I do that, her body seems to clench and stretch and cringe and clench again. It's as if she was trying very hard to get her legs back together. Then further separated. Then together. Ivan holds her wide open to my tongue.

I watch her body clench in an orgasm, bounding and bobbing and trying to escape its present fate.

But Ivan holds her breasts and, by them, her upper body. She's still pinned on his cock, pistoning in and out of her slowly. Francie urges me forward again.

This time I gently mouth her clitoris until she is again moaning and cringing. Her movements are driving Ivan closer to his climax.

Carefully, I take my manicured middle finger and press it into his asshole until my knuckle presses against his sphincter. Then I flutter my tongue on her clit while I suck it until it is in my mouth more than an inch. This orgasm overwhelms her.

She screams as if in agony but I don't let go or slow. Her body bounds and clenches but I don't let go.

"Oh, stop!" she screams. "Please, please, please, stop. Oh, god, stop." She's freed her hand enough to push at the top of my head but I still suck and flutter on her clit as Ivan's body clenches in the throes of its own climax. She stops breathing with the orgasm she experiences as he shoots deep into her.

Chapter 3

I WAKE MONDAY morning, trying to find the alarm clock. After I shut it off, I lay back on the pillow, smiling. It had been the first really good weekend I have had in six months.

Linda took me to her bed Friday night after Francie and Ivan left, both of us exhausted. The next morning, we slept in until after noon. She decided we didn't need to bother dressing so we spent the rest of the day talking quietly, reading, and listening to music in our nightgowns. Nice. I made the eggs for breakfast, but that night Linda decided to cook dinner and made one of my favorites. She laughed and talked with me all evening as she hadn't in the six months since ... Well, I never even mentioned that and she didn't either.

Again, she took me to her bed that night and we made love. Falling asleep in each others' arms, she told me she loves me.

We got up Sunday and dressed casually in shorts and tee-shirts for another leisurely day. When she told me we had to clean up, I thought I knew what was going to happen. Instead, though, she pitched in right beside me to wash the two days of dishes, to clean up after Friday night's dinner, and to straighten the house. Together we made beds, vacuumed and dusted. It was really pretty enjoyable.

Best, she seems to have forgotten her sarcasm or, at least, to have put it on hold for the weekend.

That's what I'm lying here thinking about now. Was it a dream or just a respite.

"Get up now and get in the shower," she says from the doorway. I see her smiling in the doorway, wearing one of her pink baby doll nightgowns. Then I realize. I've got a lot to do before I can go to work. I've got to get my hair combed as straight as I can get it and find a good way to hold it back. I have to get the fingernail polish off my fingers and trim the nails.

I leap out of bed and into the bathroom to shower. When I look in the mirror after I dry my hair, it is a frizz of curls around my face and neck.

"Come dress before you do anything else," she says from the other side of the door. I'm used to walking around the house nude, now. Linda's made me do it on and off for six months, particularly the last few weeks as my breasts blossomed. It still makes me nervous though and I really don't have time if I'm going to get to work on time. I rush back out of the bathroom.

I look at the bed where some clothes lay. I don't recognize them.

"I bought you a new suit, sweetheart," she says with a smile of anticipation. She loves to give presents. I see the garter belt, flesh colored panties, and stockings beside the tan suit. I pick up the suit coat and gulp. She's got other plans for me today. I can tell.

The suit coat has wide lapels that taper to two buttons. Normal so far but that's all. I see the tailored style at the waist and the deep darts in the front. It's a woman's suit.

And if I had any doubts, the other part is not a folded pair of pants, as I'd first thought. It's a skirt. I know that nothing I say will matter, realizing that it isn't over yet as I had hoped it might be during the weekend.

"Where are you taking me today, Linda?" I ask as nicely as I can. Work was sort of my break from the rest of my life these last months. Today she obviously had other plans for me.

"Nowhere," she says. I don't understand. She's still smiling. "Today's the day you can stop hiding what you are from the people at the office."

I feel very sad. She's not done with me yet. Now she's ready to extend my humiliation to my office. The last part of my life that's mine. The last cruelty. I hang my head.

"I thought you'd be happy, sweetheart," she says, coming to take me in her arms. "Aren't you?" She looks into my eyes and sees my sadness.

"I thought you liked being a woman now. Don't you."

"Yeah, I guess," I say softly.

"Well, now you're really a woman. I mean, look at you." She puts her hands under my breasts. "You're beautiful. You have bigger tits than I do. You have every bit as good a legs." Her hand goes to my hair. "With the permanent, your hair looks very nice. I'll bet if we just blow dry it and brush it a little, it'll be perfect for the day."

She steps away from me now, holding onto my arms and still looking in my eyes. I have to resolve myself to this. I'm going to my office today dressed in a skirt. No doubt about it.

"Put on your face first," she says, pushing me toward the makeup table. "Remember, daytime its lighter amounts of mascara, lighter colored lipstick, and just a little bit of eye shadow. Okay? I'll go down and make you some breakfast."

She really thinks this is something nice for me! I can't believe it. And she hasn't made breakfast for me since this all started.

With a sigh, I make up as she suggested and approve of the look. Much better than the tart look she has insisted on most of the time at night.

I put on the garter belt and sit on the edge of the bed to put the sheer stockings on. They come up much higher than most and the garter holds at the sides as well as front and back. The panties are french cut and such a light colored material that I can see through them in spite of their fairly substantial nature. I tuck my dick between my legs as I pull it into place.

I look around but don't see a bra. Come to think of it, I don't see a blouse either. I step into the skirt and zip the short zipper. It can't be a 20 inch skirt and shows as much thigh, no much more, than it covers. There are very sensible looking tan pumps that I put on, approving of the two or two and a half inch heels.

"There's no blouse with that suit, baby," I hear her say from downstairs and nod to myself. No use looking any more.

I slip my arms into the suit coat then find that I have to inhale to fasten the button on the inside before I can fasten the outside one. The tailoring pulls in my waist comfortably if a little tightly.

There's a little black ribbon still on the bed. I've seen these but never worn one. It just ties around your neck. Very Victorian. As I tie it, I move to the bathroom mirror to do my hair. First I take the blow dryer and, holding my hair off my neck, dry up under it. Leaning my head forward, I dry the top and front. Then the sides. It doesn't take much since it's been a while since my shower and I didn't wash it really. Just got it a little wet.

Using the brush, I sort of give the chaos of it a bit of order. But the order I establish is full of broad waves and a broad surround of curl. It looks good. I nod.

I start out of the room but remember one of the first things that Linda always insisted on of me when I was dressed as a woman. I push the bathroom door closed and look into the full length mirror. I actually catch my breath at the sight.

I noticed the tailoring of the waist when I put the coat on because I had to hold my breath to button it. And it is as sharply tailored to the waist as I thought. But I hadn't thought what it did to me higher. The front darts and the narrow tailoring pulls my breasts into a very serious cleavage. It doesn't even stop at just being a cleavage but is low enough that the tightly pressed together skin between them shows as a continuing cut. It's too tight to have to worry about a nipple falling out. But there sure as hell is no doubt that there is a female body in this coat.

And if that isn't bad enough, the tail of the coat is slightly long and with the very short skirt, all of about two inches of skirt falls below the bottom of the jacket. No, less than that. And from the skirt's hem, there's nothing but long, very shapely legs. I can't help but smile at the overall effect. This is really a woman!

That damned little ribbon necklace only makes it worse still.

I go down the stairs smiling and into the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," Linda says. "It looks wonderful on you!" Her hands sort of pick at the lapels where they cross each other as if she'd cover more of that deep cleavage for me then pulls at the hem of the skirt without really moving it at all. "You look absolutely devastating!"

Finally, she turns to the stove and pours eggs out of a pan onto a plate. I watch the way her buns, under the baby doll nightgown and around the panties, make a little crease over her thighs. Cute, I think. She puts the plate in front of me with a grin and sits down opposite. My coffee and some toast is already there. I eat as she smiles and watches me, drinking her coffee.

"I wish I could go with you today," she sighs as I eat. "You are absolutely going to knock them dead! I'd love to see the reactions. Just love it!" She's getting all excited. "You'll have to remember every detail and tell me all about it tonight. Okay?" I nod and finish up the last of the toast. I sit still, my heart fluttering with anticipation and dread, as I finish my coffee.

Now's when it's really scary. I made it through the rush hour traffic with no problem. It's not even hard to drive in high heels. Then I put the car in the parking structure and walked to the door to the office. My key card worked on the front door.

Samantha, the receptionist in the lobby, looked at me the whole time I walked through and into the hallway but she never said anything. That's when I really noticed the way my ass wags when I walk in heels like this. I could feel her eyes on my ass all the way down the hall.

Then I walk past the bullpen where the secretaries all sit. Only Phillis is at her desk so far. She stares at me while I unlock my office door and round my desk. When I do, I see her get up and follow me in. I take a deep breath.

Her eyes are on my cleavage as she speaks to me. "Ah, can I help you?" she asks.

"Hi, Phillis," I say. She's worked right outside my door for the last five years. She knows me as well as anyone in the building. She's flustered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But this is Mr. Brewster's office. And I don't know you."

"Sure you do, Phillis," I say, trying to bluster through it. Now she's staring at me. At my face as I try to smile at her.

"Ah," she begins. She doesn't want to make a mistake. "Mike?"

"Yeah, of course, Phillis," I say as if this is the way I look every day.

"My god!" she whispers. She looks around. "My god!" she says more loudly. "Mike! Christ Jesus!" She looks back into the bullpen and takes another step into the room before she closes the door. "Shit, Mike! What are you doing?"

I can only sit there under her intense inspection. Her eyes go to my cleavage and I can't help but squirm.

"Oh, shit, Mike! What ...?" She's staring. "You've got ..." She chokes on the words.

"I've got tits, huh?" I ask. That's obviously what she's looking at. She giggles nervously.

"Boy, I'll say!" Give her points for honesty at least. As if it were deniable. I look down at that marvelous cleavage, sort of picking at the crossover as Linda did earlier with no more result. "Mike? What the hell's going on?"

I shrug. I'd think it was obvious. "Sit down," I finally say. Slowly she approaches my desk and sits down in the chair. She's none too careful with the hem of her dress either. I'm conscious of that sort of thing now. "Call me Amy, okay?" She shakes her head.

For the next few minutes, I tell her a kind of boiled down version of what's been happening to me for the last few months. At least the functional part. Of course, I don't tell her about what caused it or that Linda has forced everything that's happened to me. Just the part about slowly changing my dress and my body with the estrogen. I realize I might as well get this down pat. I'm going to be repeating it several times today, I can see now.

She exclaims some more and shakes her head and mumbles. Then finally she makes her way back to the bullpen. During the next few minutes, I hear a buzz of conversation between Phillis and some of the other secretaries who have arrived now. I hear "Mike" spoken several times. Grinning, I also hear "gorgeous" and "tits" and "skirt" and "hair" as part of exclamations.

One of the girls walks by my office door and almost falls trying to look at me without being too obvious. I sort of enjoy it. When I look up from my calendar, I see two of the other girls on the other side of the bullpen somewhere near their desks, staring at me with open mouths.

At that moment, Carol rounds the corner into my office door with a cup of coffee in her hand. She does a kind of unnerved double take and nearly spills the coffee. Then she sets it down, never taking her eyes off my face and my cleavage. I have her sit down and go through the whole thing again.

I can hardly wait until the guys start to arrive. Carol is in shock as she leaves and I see the other girls giggle and look very strangely at her when she meets their eyes on the way out. She shrugs.

The guys are starting to arrive now and I can hear the girls intercepting them at the edge of the bullpen with whispered, "You're never going to believe ..." and "Mike's ..."

"What the fuck's this I hear ..." Vic says as he turns into my office door and freezes. He stops as if turned into a statue when he sees me. Then he looks at the name on the door. Then he looks at me again. "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought ..." He repeats the whole process. His stare definitely has an object. It's about a foot lower than my eyes. I'm suddenly very glad I don't have one of those trendy glass topped desks or his stare would be much lower than it already is.

"Morning, Vic. What's new?" I say with a smile. I'm starting to sort of get a kick out of this.

"Ahhhh," he begins. I'm starting to think this is the statement of the day. Then he frowns. "Mike?"

I smile. "Of course."

He looks behind himself into the hallway as if he's afraid of being caught talking to me. Like Phillis before, he quickly closes the door. "Mike?"

"Yes, Vic. Mike," I say. "Actually, call me Amy. Please."

"Amy," he states. Then I watch him lose his cool altogether. "Mike, what the fuck's going on? Shit, man. Fuck."

"Just what you see. Do you want the whole story?"

Looking behind him again to ensure the door is closed, he comes and sits down in my visitor's chair. His eyes flash to mine before they drop back down to my chest. Then back again to immediately return. It makes me nervous.

"I gotta hear the whole story." I change the story a little bit for Vic. He is one of my best friends. I tell him a little more of the why's and wherefore's.. When I get through the guts of the situation, he suddenly has a thought, sits back in the chair, throws his head back, and laughs uproariously.

"What?" I say.

"What?" he asks through the tears of laughter he's wiping off. "What? Think about Bledsoe's reaction to this."

For the first time, I do. His laughter continues. Then the intensity of it changes.

"Shit," he almost moans through the laughter. "Now you'll be able to talk to the old lady while you take a piss." God, I hadn't thought of that. Exactly where do I take a piss. I've got to think about that some.

Mrs. Bernice Bledsoe, the owner and founder of our company, is not going to like this, I think. Only our long history together in the company will save me, I'm afraid. I'm still not looking forward to the confrontation.

Finally, Vic's satisfied and, shaking his head, laughs his way out the door and down the hall to his own office.

For the next hour, I try to do my morning things that usually take five minutes while a steady stream of co-workers come in to "see" me and laugh, curse, and leave shaking their heads. Now it's getting old. The explanation is getting perfected and shortened considerably.

Now, each of the secretaries seems to find an excuse to come into my office to ask a question or bring me something or something. They each want a close look. The buzz continues in the bullpen, joined now by the guys. Even Maxine Tarlow, who usually doesn't talk to anyone on an average day, is in the bullpen chattering with the best of them. They've all got theories.

There's a lot of talk about transsexuals and transvestites and gays and what is and what isn't. The atmosphere is highly sexually charged all around me. Talking sex, turns you on. It's a proven fact.

My telephone rings and I answer it.

"Mike?" Bernice's recognizable voice says. "I need to see you before the staff meeting. I've been hearing rather disturbing things this morning. Well, anyway. Can you come in?"

"Of course," I say before I hang up. I get my note pad and a pen before I get up and head for my door. Now I take a double take. This is the first time they're really going to see me today. This ought to be interesting.

I take a deep breath and march into the bullpen aisle. I've got to walk the length of it exposed completely. It's not too bad, I think, nearly at the end of the aisle. Every eye is either on my front as I approach or on my ass as I walk by. The eyes are quite big and the mouths are invariably open. I think I'm going to make it.

"Fuck me, Mike!" I hear Vic from halfway back down the aisle where I passed him a minute before. "You've got gorgeous legs and a great ass, too."

The girls giggle nervously and several of the guys add similar comments, complete with wolf whistles. I decide I better not be sensitive about the whole thing. I turn around at the end of the aisle and flip Vic the bird with a smile. Then I turn around and flip the back of the short skirt at him and go on. Everyone bursts into laughter now.

I knock on Bernice's big office door. Not for the first time, I think this is ridiculous. A four foot double door, 10 feet tall and about three inches thick. An intimidating door if there ever was one. You really expect someone important to be behind it and, I guess in this case, there is. At least as important as our office gets. I hear her "come in" barely, from the other side of the door. I open it.

I look at her diminutive person behind the very large desk. I know, from experience, that she has to have a little six inch footrest under the desk so her feet can touch down from the overly high chair, the back of which towers over her. She rarely stands up to talk to anyone unless, for some reason, she's trapped into it.

Towering at about 5 feet tall or less, she is still perfectly proportioned and as well appointed -- clothing, makeup and hair -- as money can make possible.

Now, she is concentrating on something on her desk. I walk toward the desk through the thick carpet without her head lifting. She is, as I'm constantly reminded, always completely self- possessed. Finally, as I stand before the desk, she looks up at me, her mouth open with her welcome or comment or whatever it had started out to be.

Her first focus is at her eye level. My chest. It trails down to the short skirt and then slowly back up to my face. I try to smile but it really is a little hard.

She shuts her mouth. Then nods. "That's what I heard," she says.

"I'd be a bit surprised if anyone in the surrounding 10 blocks hadn't heard," I say, trying to make the best of it.

"I can understand why." She smiles and, like many others this morning, shakes her head. "I don't know whether to applaud or be very upset. God damn it, Mike! You're prettier than I am. And that really pisses me off."

I laugh out loud. It's the first time I've ever heard her cuss when she hadn't been drinking hot toddies or martinis for several hours. She does that at the annual Christmas party and that's it.

"I doubt that, Bernice."

"Well stop doubting. I couldn't any more wear that outfit than stand on my head for the morning. For one thing, I don't have enough up here," she pushes up her bosom, "to keep that jacket closed. And the skirt wouldn't do a thing for me."

She gets more serious and gets up from the high chair to round the desk to me, really looking me up and down thoroughly. I feel like I should turn and do, to her approval.

She takes my hand then and leads me to the deep leather couch against one wall of the office. I've never seen anyone sit on it before. I sort of perch on the front edge, careful to keep my knees tightly together.

"So tell me about it," she says leaning her head against her hand and relaxing into the couch. "I mean everything. The real skinny."

I do for the next 45 minutes without losing her interest for a moment.

"Where to from here, Mike?" she finally asks.

I shake my head for a moment. "I don't know, Bernice." I think about this and realize what Linda is thinking. "I don't know how, but I think Linda wants it to last. I'll go along with her in whatever she wants."

She nods then. "For what it's worth, Mike ... I mean, Amy -- I'm going to have to get used to that, I see -- For what it's worth, I don't particularly like Linda's methods but I do like the results." She looks at me hard for several minutes. "And I think you do, too."

She stands up then and watches as I get up with her.

"Amy." She's got it now. "I'm going to be watching how you handle this very carefully. There's good and bad in that. Don't disappoint me. Okay?"

I smile weakly and nod.

"Tell everybody staff meeting in 15 minutes, okay?" I am dismissed. She stands with her arms crossed under her breasts, watching me as I go to the door and leave.

As I pull the big door closed and make my way down the center aisle again, I stop. Everyone is here, smiling and looking at me.

"Staff meeting in 15 minutes." Everyone begins to scramble for the materials they'll need for the meeting. Finally, it's broken up and people aren't just staring at me.

In the next 15 minutes, I put together my reports before going to the conference room. Most everyone but Bernice is already in the room and greeting me in various ways. Several are downright obnoxious. Then the door closes solidly and Bernice, in her no nonsense manner, walks to her place at the side of the table. She motions to me.

"Sit next to me, Amy," she says. "First item of business," she announces. "If anyone hadn't noticed before, our friend Mike is now a very thorough-going woman. Her name is Amy.

"I'll expect everyone at this table to address her as Amy and to treat her as a lady. If I hear any different, you can start packing some boxes because sex discrimination and harassment is not tolerated in this company and never will be. Is that understood?" She looks around the room at everyone in the way she has perfected to do that. Only Vic, who can get away with it, looks other than contrite and compliant.

"Vic," she says with a grin. "I really should have fired you five years ago."

He looks totally taken back. "What did I do?" he says in a stage innocence.

"Just see that you don't," Bernice says into the laughter.

I sit back into the soft conference chair, making sure my legs are crossed and my skirt is as low as I can get it, and get ready for the meeting. That takes up the rest of the morning, as usual on Monday.

By the end of the meeting, it's as if there was nothing unusual.

And then I feel the need to visit the bathroom. Immediately, I turn around and return to the conference room and just catch Bernice.

"What should I do about a bathroom, Bernice?" I ask.

"I don't see the problem," she says.

"I'm biologically a man but I'm dressed as a woman and feel like a woman. If I go in the men's room, it's hard to tell what the outcome might be."

"I see," she says. Then she thinks for a minute. "Tell you what.

"First, you're a woman. You use the women's room. But everyone knows about before. How about you just make it real obvious where you're going and then if the girls don't want to go in there while you're there, they have the choice. Okay?"

"That's fine with me. Thank you." I turn and head for the girl's room, walking through the middle of the bullpen to get there.

When I go into the room, I see that one of the girls is in front of the mirror with a lipstick but it doesn't look like anyone is in the stalls. She knows me and doesn't seem affected. I go in the first stall, pull up my skirt and down my panties and relieve myself. I reverse the procedure before I flush and leave the stall.

As I wash my hands, I look critically into the mirror and straighten some curls. Later I'll have to replace the lipstick I've worn off. I fix a small spot that's crept over my lipline a bit. As I stand there, four of the secretaries come into the room chattering. They see me but they don't slow. Two go straight to the stalls and the other two to the mirror beside me.

One asks me where I bought my suit and I have to tell her Linda bought it and I'll have to ask. They understand. One of the girls coming out of a stall, still has her skirt up to her hips, pulling her blouse down, as she walks to the mirror.

I think I'm accepted.

When I return to my office, Vic is sitting in the visitor's chair doodling in his notebook. I shut the door behind me.

"Went to the little girls' room, huh?" he says with a silly grin. I nod. "How was it? I mean, was Phillis in there with her skirt over her head or something? Maybe Sam. Shit, that'd be something. I'll bet she's got a cute little ass."

"Just a couple of the other secretaries," I answer. "Sorry."

"Hey, I know," he says in a confidential voice. "You can tell me which of the girls aren't wearing panties. Then I'll know which ones to watch, okay?"

I just laugh. "You'll never grow up, will you Vic?"

"Hey! That's grown up."

I walk to the side of my desk in front of him and look down. "Besides this adolescent need for knowledge, what can I do for you?"

"You're doing it right now," he says as his eyes rove up and down my body. "God, I can't believe it. One day my funny little buddy. The next day, a beautiful chick with a set of knockers to die for." I look down at the cleavage the jacket forms.

"Yeah. This coat is outrageous, isn't it?"

"Outrageous!" he agrees. "Come here a second." He motions me toward him and leans forward in the chair. I take a step forward and his hand comes out and snags the single button of the front of the jacket.

"Vic! What are you doing?" I whisper, not wanting the whole office to hear.

"I've got to see what that coat is covering up." He unbuttons the button. Luckily the other, interior button holds it closed still.

"Vic! Good god!" I don't react fast enough and he undoes the interior button as well. I just catch it before he can open it.

"Ah, c'mon, Mike. Christ. How many times have we sat around in some little dive and looked at the chicks. Speculating on what they were wearing or trying to get a peek up their skirts or whatever. Now you've got it and aren't going to show your old buddy?"

I just look at him, my arms holding the jacket closed.

"Are they real, Mike? I mean, are they like silicone implants or fake or what?"

"No. They're real. Linda's been giving me estrogen for months and they grew."

"Nipples and everything?" I nod and smile as his dirty grin broadens. "Are they sensitive? Like a girl's?"

"Yeah. They are."

He looks around. His bargaining look. Searching for a trade.

"Listen. I'll give you the Barnes deal if I can look at them. Okay?"

"The Barnes deal?" He barely aced me out of the deal in the first place. "You'd give it to me for just that? No strings?"

"Yeah. You got it."

"You'll have the file on my desk this morning?" He looks through the papers he's holding under his pad on his lap and pulls one out. He drops it on the near edge of my desk. There it is.

"Barnes will like working with you a lot better than me anyway," he says. "Actually, I was going to give it to you before. But now it's a deal." He smiles at me and I can only sigh. I put my hands down to my sides.

His lewd smile fills his face as he reaches out to me and, as if he's opening a Christmas present, lifts one side of the jacket. Then he lifts the other side and slowly spreads them until I feel the cool air of the room on the outsides of my breasts where they have sweat under the jacket's material.

"Fuck me, Charlie," he sighs. "You've got the best set of tits I ever saw." It makes me smile. My nipples have hardened to little knots under his scrutiny. One hand pushes the coat out and finds my naked side. Then the other does the same thing.

"Vic, I don't think ..." I start but I stop when his fingers close over my distended nipples. "Vic," I whisper as my hands go to his arms to push him away. I can't get a good angle though. He just looks into my eyes and my open mouth where I am trying to draw enough air to sustain me now. "Vic."

His hands quickly return to my side and he pulls me toward him. I catch myself before I fall over him, by putting one knee in the chair between him and the arm. His tongue licks my left nipple. It's like fire and though it burns brightly in the one spot, remnants of it stream through my body.

"God, you do like that, don't you?" I can only nod. He kisses the skin between my breasts and then presses them to the sides of his face. I can hear him mumble but the sound is buried in the skin. He moves to the other nipple and sucks it hard into his mouth for a moment, his tongue playing on it inside his mouth. It feels wonderful and I'm breathing very hard now.

He sits back away from me then and I blush at the way he's looking at me, his smile spreading.

"Just one more thing I've got to know," he says. His hands slide down my hips until he reaches the hem of my short skirt. I start to step away as his hand lifts it but he catches me with one hand and pulls it up to my waist. "Cute panties," he says softly.

He holds onto the waistband and hem of the skirt with one hand while the other touches the silky front of the panties. His fingers move down to my tummy through the material and then to the junction of my legs. His fingers trace the bent top of my dick down between my legs. Low, between my legs, he pulls the material aside and my partially hardened dick falls out in his hand.

"There he is!" he exclaims. "I was afraid there for a minute that there was nothing at all left of the old Mike." He laughs.

There are two taps on my door that attract our attention to it as it starts to open. Thank god for those two taps. I stand free of him and turn my back to the door. I clasp the front of the jacket together and quickly button the outside button, covering myself. The skirt has fallen back into place as I walked around the end of my desk and quickly slide into my chair under it.

"Amy?" a voice says before I round my desk. I know I'm blushing as I sit and turn to look at her. "Oh, Vic! I'm glad you're both here."

He quickly stood up to allow her to sit in the chair. Then he pulled the other chair from its place behind the door and sat down as well.

"I see you've already given her the Barnes file as I asked," she said. I looked at Vic and saw his coy grin. Hell of a deal he gave me. He didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Fill us in, Vic."

"Okay. First, you both know that William Barnes is one of the biggest publishing houses in the country. Seventy plus titles a year. And now he's getting into audio, CD-ROM, on-line services, and all the other popular areas of publishing. A few weeks ago, he began working on some ties with several newspapers for use on the on-line services. We're helping in that." He grinned.

"What you may not know is that Barnes, while being among several large publishers, is easily the biggest pornographer in the country. Five magazines, video tapes, adult stores, and an assortment of other activities. Now he's spreading these activities to the computer networks and direct sales on CD's through the computer magazines. I know of three bulletin board systems he operates that specialize in this form of entertainment. But I'm sure that's just the tip of the iceberg.

"The contract to help him with the 'legitimate' enterprises is fairly good. Nothing particularly outstanding, of course. What I think we can help with more is this other, more secret area of his interests." He shifts uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, he is not much affected by anything I've said to him. He's not the least interested in anything a guy has to say to him." He looks at me now. "And the point of this trade in the file. He is greatly affected by women. The more exotic and exciting, the better."

Now he's looking at me with that grin again.

"There is no woman in my experience as exotic and exciting as Amy," he says. "You're a natural."

"I agree," Bernice says. "Amy? Anything you need to help with this, just tell Phillis. If there's any problem, tell me and I'll smooth the ways. Okay?"

I can only nod.

She stands and goes back to the door. "You two be careful," she says. "You never know who might come in the door."

I know she saw at least a little of what was going on now. I wasn't sure before. I blush as she closes the door behind her.

"Deal, huh," I say to Vic.

"Hey! It worked didn't it." He laughs.

Chapter 4

I SPENT THE rest of the day going over the Barnes file until I knew every detail. Then I called and made an appointment for the next day -- actually night since the only time he had available is tomorrow night. But I'll get a free dinner out of it anyway.

I did get an invitation to tour his facilities during the day though he won't be available. His special assistant will take me around.

I have the feeling that I am very much going to be on display all tomorrow so I'll see what Linda has that I can wear during the day tomorrow and I made a date with Phillis to go shopping in the afternoon so I'll have something for the evening.

As I pull into the driveway, I'm just glad to have made it through the day and that I'm home at last.

"Linda?" I call as I go through the front door.

"In here," she calls from the living room. When I walk through the door, I'm startled. She smiles as I see her. She's been busy.

Her hair is newly done and looks wonderful. I tell her that. She's also dressed in what has to be a new outfit. It's a lightweight blue chiffon material with puffy sheer long sleeves and a very low cut front that shows her off beautifully. The flounced skirt is the same material and short as all the things she likes seem to be. Blue eye shadow makes her blue eyes even bluer.

"Shopping?" She nods.

"And wait until you see what I bought for you." She doesn't even let me sit down but leads me upstairs by one hand. She leads me into her room -- what used to be our room and I see a white dress and some other material on the bed but she shoos me into the shower.

When I come out, she's sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me.

"You're going to love this," she says. She indicates I should sit down on the other side of her and then starts feeding me pieces of clothing. First a lace garter belt and very light colored stockings. I put them on.

Then she hands me the white, lacy teddy and I get into it. It has spaghetti straps and really doesn't hold my breasts at all well. Really they're loose inside the lightweight material. It does have a little elastic in the waist and snaps firmly between my legs. As I start to tuck my dick back, she tells me it probably isn't necessary and that the front is firm enough to hold me tightly. It does look okay.

Then she gives me a fairly sheer half slip that's almost useless. It barely covers my lap. Then she bunches the dress so she can guide it over my head and helps me find the long sleeves. After my head comes back out, I see that it is pure white lace from top to hem. The lace is in little rose patterns about two inches across and all intricately connected. Only the neck seems to be any thicker and this only to allow the few buttons up the back to have some place to be. The high, frilled collar stands up high under my chin. The frilled cuffs fall over the back of my hands.

I can't help but laugh. The dress has the longest skirt I've seen Linda pick out. To the top of my knees. But, of course, the entire thing is completely see-through lace. No lining, no nothing. If I weren't wearing the half slip, I would practically be naked. And without the teddy, I WOULD be naked.

She hands me the white patent shoes that are pointed toed but, behind the toe part, only a pair of thin leather thongs that go around my foot. A tiny gold slide tightens them across the instep. They are actually delicate. The heel is normal at the top but as it tapers down quickly until it almost disappears. The point of it can't be more than a quarter of an inch across. They're about four or four and a half inches tall, making them the highest I've ever worn.

She takes me to the makeup table and I see just how Victorian beautiful the dress really is with the high lace making my neck look like it is about a foot long. She says she got the idea when she saw me with the little black neck ribbon this morning.

She applies a heavy coat of green eye shadow, dark mascara and pencil. My eyes absolutely leap out of my face. Dark red lipstick does the same for my lips and blush brings out my cheek bones. Darker brownish blush hollows my cheeks.

A cameo pin at my throat seemed to top the outfit. But then she brought out a small gold chain and I knew this would make it perfect. An ankle bracelet with a tiny cameo on it. I'd never felt so feminine.

A quick brush of my hair and we walked to the car.

Linda drove and tonight, I knew, was going to be different. She drove directly to the club.

The club is where all our personal friends go and most of my business contacts. Bernice belongs as does Vic and most of the other people in the office above secretaries.

"Another coming out party," I sigh when we arrive.

"No, no. Friday was your coming out party. And today was truth day at work. Now it's truth time for the rest of the people we know. I can hardly wait to hear about your day at work," she held up her hand, "but wait until dinner. We can talk all we want then."

She leans over and gently kisses me on the lips and then backs away to open her door. I get out as well.

Negotiating my way across the parking lot, up the stairs at the front of the club, and through the lobby is more than a little difficult on the high heels but I made it. She guided me toward the dining room.

Morris leads us to a table by the windows overlooking the tennis courts and almost bursts with excitement as he holds our chairs for us. We order drinks and look at the menu for a few minutes.

When Morris brings back the drinks and introduces Dave, our waiter, we order. Linda asks him to hold off until we are almost finished with our second drink and he agrees.

"Now," Linda says with a broad smile. "Tell me all about your day."

"Wait," I say. "First I have to clear some things up. Linda, what's going on?"

She looks at me like she couldn't possibly understand. "Going on? Nothing. We're just going out to eat."

"No, I mean Friday night you set me up. You invited two people I'd never met to the house and systematically raped me for four hours. It was just the culmination of what's been going on for six months.

"All during the weekend, you treated me like you did before the pictures came in the mail. I felt like we were equals and, at least, friends again. Almost like we were husband and wife again." Looking down at the dress I'm wearing I think how silly that statement is. "At least like college roommates or something.

"Then, today you give me no alternative but to go to work dressed as a woman. I didn't know whether I was going to get fired, cause a riot, or what."

"Did you get fired?"

"No."

"Then that was all right. And didn't you enjoy the weekend?"

"Yes. I did."

"Now the big one. Did you enjoy Friday night?"

I hesitated for quite a while. "Yeah," I sighed. "Most of it. Yeah."

"So what's the problem?"

"Linda?" I say exasperated now. "For the last six months you've treated me like your worst enemy. You've treated me worse than you would a dog. I feel off balance. I don't know what to expect next. It's driving me crazy."

She looks at me with a funny smile on her face. She looks for a long time, even taking a long drink of her martini and giving me a chance to do the same thing. Then she starts to talk to me.

"Amy," she says pointedly, using my new name. "Six months ago, I was married to a guy named Mike. And suddenly I realized I didn't know him and from what I found out in those days, I didn't like him either.

"So I set out to make some changes. I loved you enough to make the effort. To make some basic changes in you that I thought would make it right again. I know I was hard on you. The Tampax," she looks at her hands. "Maybe that was a little too rough. But I succeeded.

"Amy, I remade you both mentally and physically into something we could both understand and control."

I can't keep from feeling resentment. And I certainly don't feel safe and secure though the way I'm dressed now gives me less concern than it would have a week ago.

"What's next, Linda? Do we go back to the Tampax and the made up housework and the little humiliations?"

"No, sweetheart. That's over now. I've done what I intended and it wouldn't serve any purpose. It also had the value of getting me over my anger. I was very very angry six months ago."

"I noticed," I say. She laughs.

"At least now you know how it feels to be cheated on and what it feels like to work for someone all day without their even noticing or caring. You know what it feels like to be walked on and humiliated." She grins. "You even know what it feels like to get fucked. Literally."

"And what about this, Linda," I ask, gesturing toward myself, my clothes.

"I think you make a much nicer woman than you did a man," she says. "And I think you know it as well as I do."

I think about it then. I'm not sure yet. But I think maybe she's right. I do like being a woman. It just feels good.

"So tell me about your day," she says. For the next hour and two more drinks, I tell her about everything that happened. It's almost as much fun in the telling as in the doing.

When I notice Vic come through the door into the dining room, I cringe, remembering one thing I didn't tell Linda and that I don't intend to tell her either. Of course, he immediately sees us and comes to the table.

"I don't believe it," he says. "I thought the suit you were wearing today was the most fantastic thing I'd ever seen on a woman. Now I see you in this!"

I grin. Linda says, "You're making me feel very inferior, Vic."

"Never, my sweet," he says as he leans down and kisses her. "You're as gorgeous as always."

He looks back at me. "Who picks out your clothes, Amy? My god that is a sexy thing."

"Linda picked out both the suit and this outfit," I say and he tips a non-existent hat to her. "But you ought to see it all!"

"All? Oh. Oh no. Is this another of those skirts?" I just smile. "Okay, I give up. I've got to see it all. Stand up."

He offers me his hands and raises me to my feet. Then, standing back as far as he can while still holding my hand, looks me up and down with special interest in the skirt and the half slip under it. He keeps shaking his head and his hand has gone weak.

"My god! It's unbelievable!" he exclaims. "Oh and that fucking ankle bracelet turns me on so bad ... I think I'll just have to throw you down on the floor right here."

"I could hear Vic from the lobby," Bernice's voice says from behind him. When she sees me and looks me up and down once, she looks as if she might faint. "My god. I see why he was exclaiming in his typical patois. That dress is absolutely magnificent. Where did you get it?"

"I didn't. Linda got it for me." Bernice notices her then for the first time.

"Oh, darling Linda. How are you tonight? You really must tell me where you are shopping. I understand you bought the suit Amy was wearing today as well." Linda looks pleased.

"I knew that if I came to the club tonight, there'd be at least one beautiful woman I could snuggle up to," Vic says. "Bernice, would you join me?"

She nods. "Safer, Bernice," I say. "Why don't you both join us?"

"Fine. This'll be great! I can play footsy with Bernice like I intended all along, I can look at that fantastic lace dress, and I can hug my favorite girl." He puts his arm around Linda as he sits down at the table next to her. Morris holds the chairs for Bernice and I before asking for drink orders and leaving.

"So, celebrating?" Bernice asks.

"Yes," Linda says. "Amy's first day at work. She's been telling me about it all."

"Quite a shock for us," Bernice says.

"Yeah, to say the least. You go to work on a Monday morning and find that your best buddy has turned into a gorgeous woman overnight. Hell of a deal! And now all the secretaries are jealous when they aren't too busy chattering to get any work done." Everyone laughs.

"And what's worst. My buddy spends half the day in the little girls' room and won't even take pictures for me."

Bernice just shakes her head in disbelief.

"Speaking of the little girls' room, would you excuse me?" she says then. I feel a little silly but her statement reminds me that I have been putting that off as well.

"Would you mind if I went with you?" I ask.

"Here, honey," Linda says, handing me her purse. I know it has some lipstick and a brush in it.

"See what I mean?" Vic says loudly as we walk across the increasingly more crowded room. I shake my head as well, now.

As I walk into the restroom, I look around. I've never been in the women's room here, of course. The men's room is fairly spectacular as bathrooms go. It has a stone wall, washed in water like a waterfall, for a urinal and a couple of kingly seats along with the huge sinks with their gold handles. A king's room in a way. And if that's the king's room, this has to be the queen's.

I don't slow much to look at the accommodations on the way to a stall and neither does Bernice. The stall is very large and completely enclosed rather than simple metal stalls. The plumbing is imbedded in the same kind of stonework that makes up the urinal in the men's. Very comfortable and private.

I do what's necessary and get my teddy, slip and skirt back in place before opening the door. The wall in front of me is a series of inlaid sinks with room beside each for makeup and other necessities. One area is low and has a makeup stool in front of it for major repairs, I'd guess.

The indirect lighting is very bright to allow you to see yourself though it is a combination of fluorescent and incandescent so it seems like daylight. The mirrors extend from the sink level to the ceiling. The end wall, between the stalls and sinks, is all mirror to let you check everything out from top to bottom.

I open the purse and run the brush through my hair a few times to take care of some of the more unruly strands. Just a touch of lipstick takes care of the smears from my drinks. I put the things back in the purse as Bernice comes out of the stall and steps to the sink beside me. She repeats my actions.

"That is one of the prettiest dresses I've ever seen, Amy," she says.

"Thank you," I reply. "Linda's very good at picking out sexy women's clothing."

"Yes. That jacket you were wearing today was spectacular. Very complimentary to someone with the right assets and you certainly seem to have those." She finished her touchups and was looking at me solidly now. "Those are real, I guess. Hard to fake, I know."

"Yes," I assent. "Estrogen pills for the last six months."

"It's odd. I hadn't really noticed. I mean when you were dressing as a man last week."

I nod. "It was getting very uncomfortable to tie them up that tightly though. Particularly during the warm weather."

"My god, I can imagine." She puts her hand to her own ample bosom. "I'd certainly hate to be tied up that way for very long."

The way she is studying me, I know she has another question but I can't guess what it might be. I just wait since she isn't moving to leave.

"I was wondering," she begins. She looks slightly embarrassed. Something I haven't seen from her. I touch the back of her hand and smile. "Okay. I was wondering if you've, you know, had surgery or what?"

"Oh. No. I haven't. I haven't even thought about it."

"Doesn't the estrogen have an affect?"

"Yeah, it did for a while. Really, I guess a long term effect, too." Now I'm embarrassed. I don't know how deeply to get into this.

"I know. This is really none of my business."

"Of course it is. I work for you and you have a right to know." I think though what it is I want to say. "The estrogen," I begin. "First it did away with my sex drive for a while but that seems to have returned. The longer term result may be that my testicles have shrunken and my body doesn't seem to produce very much semen. And, well, my penis is smaller, too."

"Really?" she almost states, surprised. I nod. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I mean, are you worried about it?"

"No," I shake my head slowly. I hadn't really thought about it much but it doesn't bother me now that I do. "No. That's all right. Maybe sort of a small price to pay for all the benefits.

"Benefits. Really? How interesting. What benefits do you see?"

"Well, to an extent, being taken care of. Linda's been doing that. And the clothes. I really like the clothes." I blush for a second at my next thought. "And I like the attention. A lot."

She leans close to me and smiles broadly as she touches the back of my hand softly. "So do I. It's my favorite part of being a woman. Having men look at me and want me."

I smile. She really does understand and doesn't think it's conceited or silly.

"You're a very pretty woman. I'm just a little surprised that ... well, before ... I never noticed that you even had the potential. You weren't a particularly effeminate man." She shifts now and looks a little uncomfortable. "I'm still curious, I'm afraid. And I'll certainly understand if this is too much to ask but ..." She takes a deep breath and presses on. "Would you mind very much if I asked to ... see it? I mean, under your skirt. You know."

"See?" I ask, a bit flabbergasted. I've got to think whether I care or not. Finally, I decide that I don't really care. "No, I guess that would be all right."

"Here, then. Just step back into this stall," she holds my arm and guides me back into the stall. Then she pushes the door shut behind her and sits down on the toilet seat with the lid down. She reaches for the hem of my skirt and lifts it far enough that I can catch it without bending. The half slip is already at the tips of my fingers.

"What nice lace!" she says. "It's not hard and rough like most but it still looks crisp."

I pull the skirt and slip to my waist.

"Oh, you're wearing a teddy. I see. Does that hold you firmly enough?"

"Yes, it seems to and it's much more comfortable than usual. Usually, I have to tuck it back between my legs with panties because the fronts aren't strong enough or big enough to hold me right. This was a special new thing tonight."

"Really? You've worn women's clothing before today?"

"Yes. Of course. All the time but when I'm at work for the last six months."

"Really?" she says, startled. "And all that time with it tucked between your legs?" I nod.

"At first, Linda had me tie it back with a cloth strap."

"What?"

"Yeah, it wrapped around it a couple of times, went between my legs and then tied around my waist. But then I got used to not getting turned on very often and she decided to try some more revealing clothes that would have showed the strap."

"May I see?" she asks. She seems to be really anticipating this.

I simply spread my legs a little and unsnap the teddy between my legs. The elastic and its natural stretchiness pulls it up. I fall loose.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "It is quite small. Was it always that small when soft?"

"Maybe a little bigger," I say. She touches it and it loses some of its softness. She looks at it in her fingers, turning it from side to side. It's not making it any softer. With a start, I realize that it's quickly getting hard.

"Amazing," she says, looking up at me. "Your nipples are getting hard as fast as this. I guess that's reasonable though. It's the same process." Her other hand comes to my left breast.

"Bernice?" I say tentatively.

"Yeah, I wanted to do this in my office today. But, at the same time, I didn't want anything work related to it. I mean, that would be like sexual harassment. Something I won't put up with in the least in the office."

Now I am hard. In both places. I shut my eyes to feel the feelings of it. Then I feel something else. Her lips on my cock and, at the same time, her fingers tightening on my nipple. Both feel wonderful.

"I just have to do it, Amy. I can't help myself." Her mouth closes over me, sucking it into the depths of it and her tongue moving about on it in a frenzy.

"Oh, Bernice!" I hear myself exclaim. "Oh." The hand that is not holding up my skirt and slip, strokes the top of her head as her head moves in and out. She moves out until it drops from her lips and smiles up at me.

"It's pretty good sized when it's hard," she notes. Her mouth drops back over it and sucks it up as far as possible, sucking hard and moving in and out. Her suction alone would pull my body forward and back. But then she reaches around and puts her hand on my butt and pulls me into her mouth completely. I can feel myself at the back of her throat.

"Oh, Bernice!" I moan. "Look ... ah ... look out. I'm ..." But I don't get it out. The come is pulled from my body, almost as if it is being turned inside out by her suction. And she's squeezing my nipple very hard now and that feels wonderful, too. I can only put my head back with my mouth open wide to try to draw in breath.

There might not be too much, but she swallows every drop before it stops and she sits upright again. She strokes the inside of my stocking covered thighs as she apparently watches it diminish back toward its normal size again. It may have recovered, but I haven't quite yet. I can still just catch my breath.

I put my hand on the back of hers where it still plays distractedly with my nipple, stopping her.

"Thank you, Bernice," I say.

"I had to see for myself," she says. I only nod. I'm not quite sure I know what she had to see but I'm glad she did. "Let me help you with this."

She reaches between my legs, forcing me to spread them somewhat, and gets the back of the teddy. Then she snaps the front and back together between my legs. Finally, she seats my dick in the pouch it forms at the front. Now soft again, it's quite comfortable. And satisfied, I think.

Then she helps me pull down the half slip and skirt, rubbing it where it falls over my stomach and thighs, admiring it.

"I really like that dress," she says. "I'll have to ask Linda where she got it."

When she stands, I bend a little and kiss her lips. "Thank you, Bernice. I liked that a lot."

"Well, maybe it'll make getting through the rest of the evening a little easier anyway." I smile at her thought. I don't really think that's why she did it.

On the way past the mirror, she repairs her lipstick quickly. Then we leave the restroom.

Chapter 5

BERNICE ACTS LIKE nothing at all happened as we both sit down again at the table. Vic and Linda don't even seem to have missed us. It even takes a few minutes before they even notice our return.

"How was it?" Vic asks.

"How was what?" I ask since he's looking at me.

"The little girls' room, of course. What would I be talking about?" It's almost like he knows what happened and I have to think quickly to keep my blush from showing.

"It's actually prettier than the men's room," I say reasonably quickly. "But all the mirrors aren't as neat as that waterfall."

"The bidet must be great though. Like a fountain in Rome or something," he says.

"Bidet?" I didn't see one.

"Yes," Bernice says. "I didn't show it to you but the bidet is really quite nice."

"I like the chairs and the chaise lounge," Linda says. I blush again since I didn't see them either. "It's sort of homey with the magazines and stuff."

I nod but, since I didn't see it, I'm not going to comment.

David brings the dinner along with a bottle of wine that Vic has ordered and before very long, we're finished eating and have consumed that bottle and another. Vic orders a cognac for himself and some kind of very large drinks made from orange sherbet and rum. They're sweet and good like a milk shake or something but I can almost immediately feel the booze as it lays on top of the before dinner drinks and wine.

"Let's move out on the balcony," Bernice says then and since it's a nice night, we all quickly agree.

As we cross the room, it makes me a little uncomfortable to have all the eyes on me. Everyone, both men and women, seem to look up and to follow with their eyes as I walk by. Bernice stops and talks to two or three people but even the people I know don't speak to me because they probably don't recognize me, I guess. I don't speak to them either since I'm pretty tired of explaining the whole thing over and over again.

We sit at a low glass topped table on the rattan chairs, each covered with thick pillowed cushions. They're very comfortable but I've always thought they were a little too low slung. Great in a bathing suit or tennis outfit in the afternoon. They naturally sort of lay you back to catch the sun or to relax after a game or swim. But they bend back too far for a dress and are even a little uncomfortable when you're dressed as a man because of the getting in and out of them.

You practically have to bent double to reach your drink right in front of you. And, suddenly, not being too slow, I see why Vic wanted to do this tonight.

Bernice and Linda seem confident enough sitting in the chairs but I have a little trouble. I sit on the forward edge then sort of slide back a little into the pocket of the seat while carefully keeping my knees together. Then I can cross my knees. The angle from my waist to my knees aims directly at Vic's eye level.

At least Linda and Bernice have as much trouble keeping their skirts down as I do, though theirs aren't as well lined up with Vic's gaze as mine. When I reach for my drink, I really understand.

I look up at Vic and he is looking at me. I know that if the teddy has fallen even a little away from my body, he can probably see my bellybutton. When I look down and put my hand to my chest, I can see my breasts and nipples plainly. I vow to hold my drink in my hand, now that I've got it.

I hadn't finished my drink when Vic ordered another round.

We all talked animatedly, a function, I'm sure, of our drinks. I found myself pulling my skirt down again and again as it slid up my legs toward my lap. When Bernice and Linda decide to go to the bathroom, Linda leans to my ear and tells me my half slip has slid up, too. As Vic watches the two women walk back into the dining room, I lift the sides of my skirt and pull it back down, trying to tuck it between my legs a little in the process. When I get the skirt back where it belongs, I look up and meet Vic's smiling eyes on my legs.

"Don't cover up," he says with a grin. "I like the view. You're really quite enjoyable to watch."

I can only thank him. After a few minutes of just looking at me until I'm squirming under his scrutiny, he moves over into Bernice's seat next to me. He speaks in a quiet, confidential tone.

"Is this really going to work?" He looks seriously at me. "Mike, this is your old buddy. Is this going to work? I mean over the long haul?"

I really haven't had time to think about it and only recently began thinking I had any say in it anyway. Linda's been doing all the decision making for me for the last six months, all the guiding. Maybe I only think I have any say in anything now. After all, she's still buying my clothes and telling me what to wear and when. But I really think that things are changing and that my life is again becoming my own.

Then my thoughts dwell on what I really want. The subject of Vic's question. I begin thinking aloud.

"I don't know, Vic," I say.

"Do you like this? I mean, the dressing up and being treated like a beautiful woman?"

I grin. "Wouldn't you?"

"Well, no," he says as seriously as he ever gets. "I like being a man and I'd be very uncomfortable as a woman. Besides, I'd be an ugly woman and no one would care to look at me much."

I laugh with him. "You think I have a choice?"

"Sure. It's your life. You've always got a choice. And I know Linda wouldn't make you do anything for the rest of your life that you didn't want. Even if she is madder than hell at you now. If it hasn't changed for you already, I'm pretty sure it will pretty soon."

"Yeah," I say. "I think you're right."

"So, when she says, 'Make your own decisions,' what are you going to decide."

I shake my head. I really haven't thought about anything past the moment for months.

"Did you like being a man?" he asks.

"Sure, yeah."

"Obviously, you enjoy being a beautiful woman. I mean that comment about 'Wouldn't you?' when I asked."

"Yeah, I do."

"I don't think you can have it both ways, buddy," he says then. "I mean, you couldn't put on a pair of Levis and a tee-shirt and go hoist a few at the belly bar tonight."

The belly bar is what we called a local strip joint we used to go to every now and then. And occasionally we really did just put on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt after working on the car for the afternoon, a go have a pitcher or two of beer. I could see myself in a tee-shirt now, fingernail polish and permanent in my hair. I'd be part of the show instead of just one of the patrons.

"At least, it would take some work. I'll admit that. And I couldn't go one way and then the other with any ease. Just my hair," I pointed out.

"Yeah. I've thought for a couple of months that that long pony tail you've been wearing was looking a little faggy." I nod with understanding. "I was really bothered about two weeks ago when I glanced over at the urinal and thought I could see you wearing panties. You were, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I haven't worn anything else for the last six months."

"No, shit! Didn't you worry about getting caught?"

"Sure. But I didn't really have any choice."

"Shit!" he says vehemently. "If you really didn't want to, you could have stopped by Penney's on the way to work and bought some underwear for work. Or you could have just left and come move in with me."

I nod again in agreement. "You're right, Vic. I guess I've wanted this -- and to keep Linda -- as much as she did."

"Then what are you going to do?" I shrug.

"I've got to think about it, I guess."

"Yeah, I think so."

Bernice and Linda came back then and I watched as Bernice sat down across from me, trying to manage her skirt as I had and failing pretty badly. She had the additional problem of her short little legs that didn't quite reach the floor and made her lay back in the chair even further than I had to.

She and Linda continued a conversation they had started in the bathroom In a break in the conversation, I ask my question.

"Bernice? I'm going to get some clothes tomorrow afternoon for my Barnes interview. Will the company pick up the tab?"

"Of course," she says matter-of-factly. "I ought to go with you and get some things for myself."

"Well," I say. "I don't think you'd be particularly interested in the clothes I intend to pick out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think Mr. Barnes would be more interested in a little tackier outfit than you wear."

"Of course," she says with realization. "You're right. That kind of thing will be better for your interview. Good thinking."

When Linda asks about Barnes, we all fill her in on the Barnes publishing monolith, complete to the more nefarious parts of his empire. We also discuss how we want into the porn part of the business as it applies to computer related outlets that we know best. She understands.

Vic asks me if I'd like to walk off some of the drinks and I agree. We leave and I don't hear the conversation that ensues.

"Linda, I've known you and Mike for many years," Bernice says. Linda nods, knowing what the conversation is about. "What's going on?"

Linda tells her about the pictures and about the infidelities she learned about six months ago.

"I was furious, Bernice. I've never been so mad about anything. I couldn't think of anything bad enough to do to him." She was shaking mad at the memory of it. "At the time, I was ready to kick him out and start all over. But that thought just desolated me.

"First I thought about being a housewife with a relatively new job outside the home. The lack of security and the change in lifestyle didn't appeal to me at all. Besides, that would have let him off the hook and punished me for what he did."

"I understand. When I kicked Jason out fifteen years ago, it was terrible for a while. But that son-of-a-bitch ... well, you know."

Beatrice had been a battered wife for three years before she finally divorced Jason, Linda knew. He'd finally broken one of her fingers during a one sided fight and she left, hiding out at a half way house for battered women for several months. After the divorce, Jason had wandered off to another city and finally been knifed by an enraged girlfriend. He was dead but the poor girl had to spend a year in prison for the knifing. Life isn't fair.

"If Mike was a bastard like that, I would have left just as you did. But basically, Mike is a nice guy. Loving and attentive. And a good provider. He's also always pretty much let me do as I please.

"Maybe I was unjustified in what I did. But it just seemed so appropriate at the time."

"Your idea was to humiliate him as he humiliated you."

"Yes. And it worked very well. When he wasn't working, I made him do everything I wanted him to. The dirtiest, meanest jobs I could think of. And I was mean to him, too."

"I saw some in his work," Beatrice says. "He was pretty self absorbed, I guess you'd say. But he seemed to accommodate pretty well. I mean, I haven't really seen anything that's a problem in the last three or four months. You must have let up on him."

"No! Not really. Maybe he just got used to it or something. I guess you can do that."

"Maybe so," Bernice agrees. "He certainly seems to have accommodated to this latest."

"You know, the whole thing of making him my slave ... my girl slave really ... just happened. I didn't really think about it much. I just looked at him that first night and thought that he would be humiliated to wear a dress.

"Then I sort of got into it. Dressed him up real tacky. Lots of makeup and my wig and the highest heels I own. Then I made him go to the hotel and get me a newspaper." They both laugh.

"I wish I could have done that to Jason," Bernice says. "It would have served him right."

"That's what I thought. Then I caught up with him there and made him go with me into the bar for most of the night. We even almost got picked up by a couple of guys. Mike had to dance with one of them even. It was funny."

"It sounds like it."

"What I didn't expect was how much it turned me on," she says. "I was so excited by the time we got home that I couldn't stand it. I finally ended up raping him."

"I didn't think you could rape the willing," Bernice says.

"Yeah, well. He wasn't all that willing but he got into it pretty quickly."

"I imagine."

"Then, the next day it just seemed like a good idea to keep it up. I was still mad at him and it didn't seem like he'd been punished enough. Hell, he might of even liked it. I wasn't sure.

"But I decided then to make sure. I guess maybe it got a little out of hand when it went to a month and then two and three and finally six months. The worst was probably giving him the estrogen."

She shrugs. Bernice is really not very supportive in this but she doesn't say anything.

"What now?" she asks.

"Oh. Well, this morning I sent him to work in the suit and made him show it all off. Committed him to it, I guess. But this weekend and tonight ..."

"You're thinking differently."

"Yeah. I guess I'm rethinking a lot of things. I love him, Bernice. And now I just want what he wants, whatever that is. I just hope he's not so mad at me, he can't forgive me."

"He doesn't seem mad," she says.

"No. But I don't know what he's holding inside. Or, really, what he's thinking. I haven't really let him share much of his thoughts in the last months."

"No," Bernice says. "Maybe it's time."

"Maybe this weekend."

"No, sweetheart. I think maybe tonight is the time. It's not something you want to put off."

"You're right, of course. Okay. The topic for tonight." She sighs.

Vic and I talk as we walk around the club grounds. It's a beautiful place and even more so at night with its trees, the green lighted pool, the quiet tennis courts, and, beyond, the golf course. I haven't played in almost a year now. I think I should again.

On the opposite side of the club building from the tennis courts and the dining room, there's a garden of trees and flowers and flowering shrubs. The moon lights it almost as well as daylight but softer.

"Isn't this hard on you, buddy," Vic asks quietly. He's been walking with his arm around my back, our slow footsteps synchronized.

"Hard?"

"I mean, the reign of terror. With Linda?"

"I just worry that she doesn't love me any more, Vic."

"That should be the least of your worries. I mean, she's come up with some pretty innovative ways to punish you for things I've done a bunch of times. It's just not fair."

"No. It's all right. She needed to get the anger out. And I deserved it."

"What if she comes up with something else as crazy. Maybe she's got plans to turn you into a hooker now." I laugh.

"Maybe that wouldn't be all bad, old buddy," I say.

"Oh, shit," he says resigned. "Do you like this? I mean, being dressed up like a woman and all." Before I can answer, he answers himself. "Yeah, you like being a beautiful woman. You said so." I nod as we walk.

We just look around the garden and walk slowly until we're at the far extreme of the gardens. The trees surround us.

"How much do you like being a woman, Amy?"

"A lot, Vic."

"How much exactly?"

I can only shake my head. "I don't know what you mean."

He stops then and turns me to him. His hands come to the sides of my face, holding me looking up at him. My hands have come to the sides of his waist.

"Do you like it enough to appreciate this?" His mouth comes to mine, his tongue tracing the shape of my lips. I sigh and realize I've opened my lips to him. His tongue finds the opening and delves inside. The feelings the kiss elicits rage throughout my body.

I can't imagine liking him this way even though we've been the closest of friends for many years. This is different. But I can't help myself. I do like it!

His hands lower down my body until his fingers find my nipples and I draw a deep breath around his tongue. I raise my hands to the back of his neck, pulling his kiss deeper into me and moaning with the feeling of it. My new breasts are inflamed with feeling.

His hands cup them and knead them almost roughly and it feels wonderful. Somehow the kiss intensifies and his arms go around me, one in the small of my back and the other finding my bottom and pushing me into his hip. I can feel him hard against my stomach.

I can't keep my center still. It rubs against his hip now as stars twinkle on the inside of my eyelids.

He moves back from my mouth an inch. "I've wanted to do this since this morning," he moans. As his mouth covers mine again and his tongue opens mine, I feel him release the snaps of the teddy between my legs. I stiffen and he feels it. He releases me slightly.

"Make a decision now. How much of a woman are you?" he says. He looks to his side and I follow his look. There's an old rail fence there. He looks back at me.

"I'm enough woman for you right now," I mumble. He lets me lead him to the fence and watches as I lean forward on it, bending at the waist. I just smile at him.

He walks up beside and behind me then and reaches for the hem of the lacy dress again. In a motion, he lifts it and the half slip to my waist. Then he softly touches my naked butt under the garter belt, rubbing it and looking. It makes me squirm.

It still takes me by surprise when he kneels and I feel his tongue between my legs now from behind. It strokes the space under my diminished testicles, across the sensitive spot between my legs, and back to my little hole. No one has ever done this to me as I feel his pointed tongue delve into that hole, gently opening it as he did my lips a moment before. My legs weaken with the feel of it.

I can feel him laving his saliva on me and in me for several minutes as I wonder if I'm going to come this way. I don't get my answer as he stands up behind me. I don't know when he took his pants down, but he did and now he is between my legs, his hips pressed against my bottom. I tighten my legs around him, holding him as he pumps into me several times.

He reaches around my middle and his hand covers my hard shaft completely, rubbing it as his shaft moves back and forth between my legs. Then he pulls back a little and I feel his finger move into my ass very gently. I spread my legs to offer access until the finger is all the way inside.

Then he removes it and stands firmly behind me again. I can feel him at the portal of my body and then pressing into it slightly. Then the pressure increases. I realize that I've been clenching it as tightly as I can in reaction. Mentally, I ease the pressure. I relax it as if I were relaxing a fist. I think of taking a shit and feel him move into me a little.

It's hard to keep from clenching tight again against its intrusion but I overcome it, working hard to relax. It hurts just before I feel him pass the sphincter muscle and slide further into me. One arm wraps solidly around my waist, his hand pressing back on my thigh as he presses forward. It's much further into me now as he eases and pulls back slightly before surging forward again. I hunch my butt back to accept him.

Then his hands cover my breasts, crushing them into my chest as I feel his pubic hair against my buttocks. He releases one breast then covers the other with his arm and re-establishes his hold with that hand. The other hand searches for the front hem of the lacy dress and moves under it to wrap around my rod. He moves back on it as his ass presses forward into my insides. My head falls back onto his shoulder and my mouth opens wide for breath.

His strokes in my ass oppose his strokes on my dick as we pump together and apart, together and apart, faster and faster until I can only hear his panting in my ear.

"I'm coming," he grunts as I feel it deep inside me and his hand pinches my nipple roughly. His hand on my dick continues to quicken in its movements even though he is losing control. My come splatters onto the path at our feet and I feel my body's complete release.

For several minutes, we stand like this as I feel him softening and retreating from me. I'm holding most of his weight on my back and hips for that time. Then he slowly moves back and I feel him leave my body. He stoops and retrieves his pants as I re-snap the teddy and rearrange the half slip and skirt.

"I've got to get back to the club," I say. "Gotta take a shit."

He laughs uproariously. Then he steps in front of me and gently strokes the side of my face. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me again deeply. It's a very sexy, knowing kiss.

"You make a hell of a woman," he says. "And you've got the best tits in the business."

He takes my hand and we begin the walk back, this time a little more hurried since I'm having a little trouble with control.

"You've got the tightest cunt I've had in twenty years, too."

"Now shush!" I say. "God, what would happen if anyone knew?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Shall we go ask?"

"No. Jesus. This is what got me in trouble in the first place."

"Okay. I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal," I say. "And a better deal than you made me this morning. After all, what would the other guys think if I told them you'd been buggering your best old buddy?"

"They'd say, 'How does he rate?'" he says with a silly grin. I don't think so.

I rush through the lobby of the club and into the restroom. I just make it before I can't hold it anymore. Before I leave, I use the bidet, that is very interesting and a lot like a fountain, and check out the sitting area with its soft chaise lounges and the two ladies' sized recliners. The women's magazines are all old.

Chapter 6

Linda ASKS ME to drive home and sits turned on the seat beside me, watching me as I drive.

"What are you feeling, Amy?" she asks.

"Feeling? Oh, a little drunk. Happy, I guess. I don't know. It was a wonderful dinner. Thank you."

She waves it off. "Nothing."

We ride in silence for a little longer before she speaks again.

"I could take the afternoon off tomorrow and go shopping with you," she says.

"If you want to," I say. "But I arranged with Phillis to show me some places. She goes to them all the time."

"Yeah, I'm sure she does. She always dresses that way, doesn't she?"

"Uh huh," I nod. "A little trendier than I want to look for this interview, I think, but the places should have the right kind of clothes."

"Try a place called the Beastie Boutique," she says. "I've gotten a few things there. Some for you, actually. Remember the clear rubber dress I made you wear that one weekend?"

"Oh. Yeah." It's not a particularly pleasant memory. I worked my ass off that weekend and sweated gallons inside the tight rubber. I practically had to peel the thing off by the end of the day.

"They have a lot of nicer things there. Very feminine and sexy as well as the leather and studs ... and rubber. That thing was awful, wasn't it," she laughs. I can't stay mad at her.

"Yeah. It was awful. I sweat like a racehorse on a hard run for the whole day."

"But you lost your gut that day, too. Remember?" I do and nod. Weighing, I'd lost five pounds and it was all from my waist and stomach. It was kind of sexy working in the thing even as uncomfortable as it was. It was still sexier when Linda helped me get it off and washed me before shaving my whole body again and making love to me afterwards.

"I liked the part afterwards the best," I say with a grin.

"I know you did," she's quiet for a minute. "I liked that part best, too."

That's the first time she's sounded this softly loving to me in months. My mind keeps working now.

"Linda, I don't understand something." She waits.

"You got so mad at me six months ago because of something I did back in college," I say, hoping I'm not starting the whole thing over. "And, of course, more recently. I admit all that."

"Yes," she says hesitantly.

"But what I did with your friends Friday night was almost the same thing. I ... I guess I just don't understand."

"I don't know how to explain it," she begins. "It was ... well ... it was sort of a peace offering, I guess. My silly way of saying I understand what made you do those things before.

"You know, one of the benefits for you of this whole thing is that it's made me a much more sensual person. I've sort of lived some things vicariously through you during these months. Learned maybe a little better what being a woman really means.

"And I've gotten a lot more confident of myself. I'm not nearly so fragile. Punishing you, I found out a lot about myself and how strong I am. I don't feel that I have to have you to be complete anymore. But ..." she takes a deep breath before continuing. "But I find that I do want you."

We pull into the driveway and go into the house.

"Would you like a drink or anything," I ask.

"No," she says. "I want to go to bed. With you."

"You mean ..." I hesitate to say it.

"Yes. I mean. I want to take that sexy lace dress off of you. And while I do it, I want you to take my dress off, too. And then I want you to make love to me."

She just looked at me from under the blond bangs that were hanging over her forehead when her head was in that sexy, downcast position.

"I want you to teach me everything you've learned about a woman's body and what you've found feels good. And then I'll do the same for you."

"Gosh, I don't know," I say as I grin and move toward the stairs. "You've been leading this sort of thing for so long, I may have forgotten."

"You sure as hell better not have," she says with an answering grin. "Or we'll have to start new lessons."

In the next fifteen minutes, she carefully took the lace dress off me before working on the half slip and teddy. Then I took off her short blue dress and deposited it, with the lace dress, on the makeup table chair. She glistened with readiness below her garter belt. And that's when I learned that she hadn't worn panties at all tonight. We fell onto the bed together, pushing the covers out of our way and leaving the stockings and heels on. They turn both of us on.

"I have an admission to make, Amy," she says then. "I've already had two orgasms tonight." I thought about myself. Six months ago, I couldn't have gotten it up again after the night I'd spent. I listen.

"Beatrice licked me until I came when we went to the powder room together," she looks down, embarrassed. "And while you were gone to the bathroom, Vic put his hand between my legs and made me come."

She looks at me as if she thinks I'm going to be mad.

"Can you forgive me?" she asks. Finally I can't hold it in anymore and laugh out loud.

"It seems they had a very big night with us," I say.

"What?"

"Beatrice also did me when we went to the bathroom. And later, when Vic and I went for the walk, he made love to me."

"Really? You're kidding?" I only shook my head. "Somehow it seems a little strange to have competition for lovers with my husband."

I take her in my arms gently.

"You made it possible, my love," I whisper.

"Yes," she whispers. "Are you very mad at me for doing that to you?"

"Yes," I say too quickly and feel her stiffen. "Yes and no. Yes to all the things I hated about this last six months. Like not knowing if you hated me. And no for the result."

"The result? You mean being a woman?" I nod into her shoulder as we lay side by side holding each other, our stocking covered legs intertwined. "You like being a woman?" she asks again.

"Yes," I say, looking her directly in the eyes. "I like it very much. I guess it's like Vic says. I can like it because I am a beautiful woman. He'd make an ugly one."

She gets a strange look in her eyes. "He'd make a tall woman but ..."

"No more experimenting," I say as I pinch her nipple lightly and she cringes.

"We could do it together. I'll bet he'd make a pretty woman. Not like you. Not gorgeous. But pretty." I laugh then and she returns my action, pinching my nipple and regaining my attention. She pinched me harder and I cringe considerably.

"Oh, did I hurt it. I'm sorry," she says as she moves down a little and kisses it softly. I cringe again as her tongue crosses it again and again. Then she pulls me to her more roughly and sucks up as much of my breast as will fit into her mouth. I didn't know if it was possible but my whole body is now vibrating with the movements of her tongue. "You like the feelings of being a woman, don't you."

"Yes, my love," I gasp. "Yes."

"And you want me to make love to you as I would a woman. Right?"

"Yes, my love," I gasp again.

Her body lowers again, kissing down across my stomach. Lower. She turns me onto my back and rolls over my leg until she's between them. She pushes them apart further and lifts them into the air. I look down to see her between the nylon clad legs, the pretty white heels on my feet. She pushes them up until my knees touch my chest.

Then her tongue finds that sensitive spot between my legs and moves on it, caresses it over and over again until I'm breathing very hard. Her tongue presses into the opening of my ass as no one had done before tonight. In and out until my body is rocking with the tinier movements of her tongue. Then she moves up until she finds just the head of my dick and licks it as she would a clit. I feel what I think she would feel. She does it for a very long time until I am on the edge of an orgasm.

Then she moves up my body again, licking her way up to my nipples and then sucks first one and then the other. She puts my dick inside her. I know that has to be the way it is. But it feels as if she's put one in me instead.

She keeps my legs spread as she fucks me. She buries her tongue in my mouth, moving her tongue in and out of me as she pumps into me. My legs are spread wide and in the air. My hands move up and down her back again and again as she pumps me. My knees are almost under her armpits and, as my orgasm starts, wrap around her middle.

I buck and surge with it. God, she fucks me so well, so beautifully. Then her own orgasm joins mine and I hold her with both arms and both legs as her body loses coordination. As it goes wild. She's chewing on my lip now and my climax just continues up and up until I think I might lose consciousness.

Then I can feel her body relaxing and feel my own following, joining it in its descent to the normal world. I put my legs down to the sides of hers and we lay locked together, regaining ourselves.

"You like being a woman?" she states.

"I like it a lot more sometimes than others. Now is one of the times I like it best."

She rolls off me to the side and I turn with her, holding her tightly.

"What now?" she mumbles into my shoulder.

"What?" I ask.

"What now Mike? What happens now?"

"Amy, my love," I remind her. "But I don't know."

We lay together for a long time looking at the patterns of light and darkness in the room. Then I ask the question that's plagued me since Friday.

"Linda, is it over?"

"What?"

"Is the punishment over now?" I have to know.

"Yes," she says plainly. "It's over. You go back to making your own decisions now. No more housework to keep you busy. No more strange clothes to humiliate you. No more Tampax. No more pills. In a few months, I understand, you will be back to your old self."

"No," I say. "That's not what I want at all."

"It's not?"

"No. I don't mind the housework. At least the housework that really needs to be done. Particularly if you help me. And I don't mind cooking part of the time if you'll take the other part."

I take a deep breath. This is the really hard one.

"And I don't want to go back to being Mike Brewster. I'm not him now and I can't go back."

"So where do we go from here?" she asks. It's a good question.

"Vic asked me that tonight. He said I can't have it both ways. I can't go to the belly bar in a tee-shirt anymore. But what he meant was that I've got to make a decision all the way. Man or woman. All the way."

She sighs against my neck.

"When I was really pissed off at you, I talked to a doctor to ask what would happen if I cut off your dick," she says. I cringe at the thought. She was truly pissed at me. "He said you'd probably bleed to death along with being pretty mad yourself if you made it through it. I decided I wasn't that mad at you after all."

"I'm glad," I say with conviction.

She laughs. Not really very funny. That's scary.

"What he did say is that you can have an operation. They claim it is really pretty easy even if it sounds pretty complicated to me. I guess they've been doing it since the '50's. They actually use the skin of your penis and testicles to make a pussy. A vagina. They can't make fallopian tubes or any of the rest, of course. Not even a cervix or womb. But the vagina is normal."

She breathes against my neck.

"They also form a real clitoris that the doctor said was successfully functional in about 90 percent of the cases they've done. He said that meant that it was correctly sensitive and could produce an orgasm. It still sounds almost impossible to me because they remove your testicles and a bunch of the stuff inside your dick. Then they use it with a cut between your legs to make the pussy. Oh, and they reroute your urethra for a normal female way of going to the bathroom."

"That sounds pretty radical. Besides, then how could we make love?"

"I just made love to you as a woman. I could do that again. I'd even get a big black dildo and fuck you with that. And you could fuck me with it, too."

"That wouldn't be the same."

"No, it wouldn't." Then she giggles. "It'd be a bunch bigger." She giggles again. "And it could have a vibrator in it."

"Shit," I say tongue in cheek. "If I'd've known you wanted it to vibrate, I'd've done that a long time ago."

"There's another way, too," she said into my neck again. "We could get boyfriends. And they could fuck us both. Or just invite Vic over. He'd do us both, I guess."

We laugh and hug. Then she pulls me on top of her and, somehow, I find that it's still hard. Hard enough anyway. I make love to her as a man, pumping hard into her to make her cry out with the pleasure of it. And I call her a cunt and a bitch and she writhes in my arms and comes and comes and comes.

We fall asleep still wrapped in each others' arms, our naked breasts pressed into each other.

Chapter 7

WHEN I GOT out of the shower, still trying to get the sleep out of my eyes and my head together from the late night, I saw the outfit Linda had laid out for me.

Again there was the garter belt, stockings and french cut panties but then it differs slightly from what I've come to expect. The skirt is a simple black sheath that clings to my skin. It fastens with a simple side zipper and button at the left side of the waist. The top is a shirt-cut opaque black blouse with material that matches the skirt and buttons up the front. Experimenting, I see it looks best with the collar up and about three of the top buttons unbuttoned to show a little cleavage.

I blow dry and brush out my hair before putting on a little lipstick and mascara. The shoes I slip on before heading downstairs to breakfast are simple black pumps.

"Yes, that looks nice," she says as I step into the kitchen. "I thought maybe you needed something today that would be easy to slip in and out of for your shopping trip." I hadn't thought of it and nod. It will be.

I watch her fuss about getting some eggs on the table and watching the skirt of her little dress flounce with her. She looks more feminine than I've seen her in months. This is a good omen, I think.

I check in with the office, answer a couple of calls, make sure of the afternoon appointment with Phillis for shopping, and head out to Barnes' building. Philip Peabody meets me at the guard station in the lobby. It seems no one goes in without a guide or a company nametag.

"Where would you like to start?" he asks as he looks at the opening in my shirt.

"Up to you but maybe with the working areas before the corporate ones, okay?"

"Right. Then we're on the right floor." He leads me through a couple of glass doors into and past a concealing wall. This floor, he explains, and the one below contain the presses. I hadn't realized the extent of the bookmaking process and for the next hour, he shows me all the ins and outs though it is totally out of my area of expertise.

What it does instead is gain the very pointed attention of about 500 press operators and as many compositors and typesetters. The only area that I may be able to help at all is in the computerized composition machines and, particularly, the colorizing computers where the designs for covers are done.

I notice that one of the covers being produced is of a beautiful woman, almost completely undressed and looking seductive. I can't see the title well but I think it's something about naked thighs. Her naked thighs or Father's naked thighs or something like that.

No one sees me look at the cover. I want to keep it that way.

He walks me up to the next floor, very carefully walking behind me up the stairway. I can feel his eyes on my ass and on my legs behind. I try not to let it get to me.

He catches up and pushes the fire door open into another large room full of cubicles. People sit in each of the cubicles with single headsets with mouthpieces and computers. It looks like one of these boiler rooms where orders are taken for TV offers or something. Maybe it's for book orders but it seems like an awful lot of them for that. That's what he tells me it is anyway.

His statement is lessened somewhat when we walk by one cubicle and the rather heavyset girl says something about loving her clit licked like that. Since he hurries me through that part of the big room fairly quickly, I'm not sure that's what I heard.

He follows me up another flight of fire stairs then and through another large room divided into cubicles. He says this is "editorial" and explains that this is where the manuscripts are read and edited. The outside walls of this floor are divided into individual offices that he says are the more senior editors who work with the top authors and their agents.

He takes me to the elevator then and pushes "10" as he explains that these floors are all editorial, two for fiction, one for poetry and culture books, one for photography heavy books, one for textbooks, and some others that I don't catch.

The tenth floor is the legal department where, he says, the contracts are written and signed with writers and others. He stops at one of the offices and picks up a blue bound contract. "Yours," he explains without showing it to me or giving it to me either.

The next floor is computers again with a lot of ledger sheet output on every desk. "Finance," I guess before he tells me. They do the billings and the payments along with corporate accounting.

The next floor is a "clean room" with sterile looking white walls and people in what look like lab coats. The entire center of this floor is made up of a raised and glass enclosed computer with technicians moving about between them, changing 9-track tapes and watching green monitors.

"It's not a Cray, is it?" I ask, seeing the arc shaped black machines.

"No, no. Just a top of the line IBM." The distinction seems to be fairly small since I can feel the cold coming off the glass walls that indicates cryogenic protection for the machines. The clean room is an indication of a very fast, very competent machine.

"This is the mainframe for all those terminals you saw below. Lots of PC's down there, too. But the important machines are terminals connected to this baby. Very fast. It also handles the big databases. The on-line services," he says as if I might be too stupid to understand. "There's some more storage somewhere in the building but I'm not sure where. Upstairs, I think." I wonder why he doesn't know.

He follows me up the next stairway as well and opens the door into the plushest floor I've seen so far with deep pile carpets and big oak and maple desks even for the "administrative assistants." At this level, they aren't secretaries any more, I know. The prettiest women I've seen yet are set up here with their computers, telephones, and spotlessly clean desks. None of them are tacky enough to file their nails but they look as if they have little else to do. Two that I see of about ten are actually typing something on their PC's. Each is connected to a laser printer. Instant memos.

I think Phillip is happy to be able to show me off. He takes me into the offices of half a dozen corporate officers even though they don't seem to have anything to do with my job with them. Each makes a pretense of being very busy, a couple on the telephone, several requiring us to wait "just a few minutes" then asking us in almost immediately after through the secretaries, of course.

Each of the men are pleasant and gracious even though they don't have much of anything to say to me after, "Oh, you're Miss Brewster. Very nice to meet you." If they really knew anything about me, they'd more likely be expecting "Mike" Brewster and not Amy. Or they'd be asking about Vic, who had the account until yesterday.

Finally, he introduces me to the MIS, the boss for the computers, and I finally see a working office. He has a PC and a terminal in this office and, while I watch, switches between the two.

"I do all the small programming tasks on the PC and then transfer it. That way I don't slow down the time share." The machine has to be very busy to have one terminal make any difference at all, I think. Oh, well. "I also sample the on-line databases pretty often to watch their status and see what kind of activity there is. We get a printout, of course, but it's nice to know from first hand. You kind of get a gut feeling."

"You're trying some new offerings?"

"Yes. Yes we are as a matter of fact. Several things. We'll be very interested in their success. Or failure of course." I can see that he's not going to share much with me.

Phillip takes me next to his own office, bypassing Veronica, his secretary, with a brief hello. I smile and follow him into the office. He seats me in front of his desk and asks her to get coffee before shutting the door.

"Phil?" I ask friendly. "What's on the floors above?"

"Oh, well, nothing you'd be interested in. There's some more computer storage, as I said before, and a few other offices. Then Mr. Barnes' penthouse."

"I understood there was a photo studio and some other studios," I say.

He looks at me strangely for a moment before answering. A lot like he's measuring the extent of my knowledge. Then he lies. Badly. "Oh, no. Well, just one for cover shots and that sort of thing. Minor." It makes him nervous. "Nothing for you to worry your little head about anyway. Nothing in this contract that would touch them." Them. More than one for cover shots. Bad liar. No wonder he's not in the legal department, I think.

I'd noticed that his door just had his name on it and is quite small. So my guess is he's just a corporate gofer.

"Here's your contract, if you'd like to look it over." He sets a pen on top of the paper.

"Yes, thank you. But if you don't mind, I'll take it to our lawyers. Oh, and we may have some additions that will have to be inserted." I scan it but know that it's so much trash. Events have already gone past Phil. I stand then and he pulls his eyes off my legs for only the second time since we walked in the door and I sat down in the short, tight skirt. I extend my hand. "Thank you for the tour. I'm sure it will come in very handy to have some idea of what I'm talking about concerning the physical facilities."

"Talking about? With whom, could I ask." He seems a little concerned. I hate people who use the word "whom" in any context. Even if it is correct in some cases. It's still prissy and unnecessary.

"Oh, I have an appointment with Mr. Barnes tonight," I say.

Now he gets obsequious. I think he might bow or something. "You have been treated well here, haven't you? I mean, there's no problem?"

"No, no. As I said. We're looking toward an addition to this contract. Some other things we'll be able to help with, I'm sure." He's fidgeting. I've never seen this in a man though I had an old maid aunt who did it all the time when anything was said she didn't like from someone being ill to a cuss word from her darling nephew. "Please don't worry," I felt I had to say before he collapsed. "You've been perfectly ... helpful." I had a hard time coming up with a word to describe his work. "You've done just fine. This is just out of your purview. That's all."

"And you'll give Mr. Barnes a good report?" He seems so worried that I can't help but smile.

"Of course, Phil. No problem." He seems to visibly relax. Poor guy. This Barnes must be a piece of work. Good to know. I started for the door then with my smile still intact. He seems to leap from his chair and walks me to the elevator. Though I'd just as soon he didn't, he rides down with me and escorts me to the spot next to the guard's station he picked me up at. He almost bows me out of the building.

An hour ago, I had returned to the office and picked up Phillis and one of the company's gold cards. We'd walked together to The Pub, a yuppie lunch bar a few blocks from the office. We quickly ate some goopy sandwiches full of bamboo shoots, that I hate, and two glasses of white wine each. It took the edge off.

"So, where do you want to start?" Phillis asks as we walk down the street after our lunch.

"This is your area. You tell me. I'm just along for the ride, sort of."

"Okay," she says, thinking. "We could start at the Barn and the Lounge and then head down to the Footerie. Maybe even Frederick's, huh?"

"Lead on," I shrug. I've never heard of any of these places. Except Frederick's, that is.

Today she is wearing a pair of tight leggings with wild color strips running around her legs below the world's shortest bright blue skirt and a tee-shirt sweater with the wild strips repeated. Topped off with spike heels that match the skirt. The whole thing clings so tightly to her body that she couldn't have a pimple without it being clearly visible. She already told me she usually dresses conservative for the office, most of her things are a lot wilder than this, and that she'd chosen something, this, as sort of a middle ground so she wouldn't get kicked out of the office but wouldn't get kicked out of the stores either. I could only nod with amazement.

We turn into a store commanded by a girl with pink hair (on one side at least), and black lipstick and nail polish. Certainly, the outfits we look at for a few minutes fit in with the clerk's outfit and Phillis's but I can't see anything I could wear without looking like a clown. I want sexy; not silly. Maybe even startling. But not just outrageous. I try to get this message over to her.

She smiles and says she knows just the place. I try to keep up with her while she strides along, amazingly fast, on those tentative shoes. That's another thing I'm not getting, I vow.

She turns me into another store. The store clerk is obviously one of Phillis's girlfriends and they break into a conversation and leave me alone to look around. Many of the things here are also repulsively outrageous but there are some very nice things too. But it seems that everything has a catch to it. A long skirt is slit from the hem to the waist. Completely. With only a small waist piece to hold it on. A decent looking skirt, held up, is so sheer I can see my hand through both sides. I see a pink, blue, and black version of the white lace dress I wore last night. This must be where Linda shopped for that.

I look at a ruffled, tier skirt that's not ridiculously short and the salesgirl points out that it's designed to ride "really really low" on your hips. "Cool," she says. I don't think so. I don't think my hips are full enough for that. Finally, she's making suggestions for me though. That's good, I think. Phillis is helping, too, with a better idea of what I really need. Not disco, but sexy.

They suggest a black dress that I kind of like that has some similarities to the tiered one. I decide I'll try that on along with some others if they can help pick some.

We agree on one black dress with a side slit. I've got to see what it feels like to wear. A red dress has a really low cut top that I think I can hold up. I'll try that. Another red dress seems to be a complex set of strings with tiny pieces of material. The salesgirl volunteers to help me into it but I veto that as too revealing.

One red dress has a series of holes up both sides. I veto that, too. I pick out a blue dress that is a very lightweight crepe or silk or something so light it's hard to hold down and, I'm sure, would when you were out for an evening. Maybe for tonight though. I'll try it.

"You'll need these," she says, handing me a pair of black "hip hugger" panty hose. "Unless you'd rather have crotchless," she asks with questioning eyes. I don't think I'd handle those very well and shake my head, taking the hip huggers. "Or maybe a contrasting color?" she asks again, handing me a pair in a sort of dayglo pink. I shake my head again. "Lace?" Again. "How about super sheer?" Maybe. But I can try things on with the black stockings.

As I pass into the dressing room, she says, "All those things, you'll want to get rid of your panties if you're wearing them." I nod. "Oh, and you can wear most of them without stockings if you want." No stockings, no panties, humm. I don't think that would work either. Besides stockings make a girl's legs look so much more appealing.

"If you need help, just yell."

I start by undoing the garter belt and taking off my stockings and panties. Then I put on the pantyhose. When I take off my skirt, I see that the pantyhose form to me perfectly without covering much of anything. They top across my tummy, low on my hips only barely at the top of my pubic hair but firmly between my legs. They give the right degree of support with it tucked between and just laid along my hip bone. They're perfect.

I unbutton the blouse and take it off before looking at the tiered dress that I really like.

Taking it off the hanger I see that it's really three separate pieces. First the frilly bra, then matching panties, the frill of which is only between my legs and very slightly up front and back with string ties. The single strip of the bra goes around and fastens without shoulder straps and the cups are separated slightly with a narrow gauzy strip of the same material as the rest of the strap.

As I pull the dress over my head I see that it really isn't what I thought it was. What I thought were shoulder straps are really sort of arm straps fastened to a front piece that covers a part of my stomach in a sort of hourglass shape. It doesn't touch my back in the least. The waist is very low, lying about an inch above the top of the pantyhose. The tiers of fluffy material, the same as the bra and panties, is about 10 inches from waist to hem. The idea of this dress, I see now, is to show all the skin but what the bra covers above the waist, all the possible leg, and actually center and show off both the bra and panties, the bra when you're standing, the panties when you're sitting.

I've got to think about this one a little. I hang it back up.

The crepe outfit is a very light top with a low cut circle from the point of one shoulder to the other and down almost to my nipples. Only multiple layers of the material covers them. The bottom of the top is tight about the waist and flaring a little at the hips. The skirt is the same flaring, multiple layers that falls to mid thigh. Going dancing would be virtually impossible, I see as I swing my hips a little, but most anything else would be okay. I like it.

The red dress's low cut top is almost scandalous and loose enough that leaning forward would be impossible. It opens about a foot. The lightly elasticized waist clings low on my hips with a slit to it on each side. Interesting. I like it more on than I thought I might. They all have possibilities. I don't like the black stockings with it, though. Sheer or maybe a red cast.

They're still talking after I get dressed in my own clothes again and return to the showroom. "Oh," the salesgirl says. "I should have been more attentive. I'm sure there's something here you'd like. Let's look a little more."

"No, no," I say. "I like all three of these and I'll take them." She's surprised but pleased.

"Something else? Some bras or panties or, I know, you need some pantyhose for those." She lays out a selection and I pick a very sheer red pair, the black ones, and the completely sheer ones. Then I pick up a pair of white ones that I think would go with the dress I wore last night, too. "How about a blouse?" she says, seeing a sucker when she sees one and lifts a white one from the rack and lays it across her arm. I can see the time on her watch through it. But with a really pretty bra ... I take it.

"Skirts? We've got the shortest skirts being sold." I look through them and find a flared black skirt and a white one that's the same.

"Okay. Enough," I say finally.

But as she lists out the items, she shows me some really pretty bra and panty sets and I pick out two that she adds to the list. Just right for under that blouse. I draw the line at the tight, lightweight sweaters. Then I pick out two wide leather belts that I have to hold my breath to put around my waist. They give me an hourglass shape and draw attention to it with the black and white tiger strip of one and the bright white of the other with the big gold buckle.

I hand her the card before she can show me anything else.

Phillis is tickled by my lack of control as we walk down the street with the armloads of bags. It's just a hell of a lot more fun to shop for these things than it is for Levis, tee-shirts, or sports shirts.

She guides me into another store a few doors down, filled with shoes.

A nice looking blond man in his twenties waits on us and quickly seats me at one of the chairs. He takes off my shoe, measures it, and somehow tickles the bottom so I cringe back.

"Very high?" he asks.

"No, please. I don't think I could walk on them." He nods, goes to the back room through a curtain, and comes back in a few minutes with his arms full of boxes. He opens several, setting them in their tops on the chairs around us, handing a couple of boxes to Phillis as she sits next to me.

I pull out a little of the three dresses. "I want to wear them with these."

"Ah," he says. "Three pairs? Or just one to work with them all?"

I shrug. Phillis laughs and I hit her lightly.

One pair is Lucite with a woodblock heel. Ugly. Several are too high though not as high as Phillis's. One black pair is an "X" of quarter inch straps over the toes and a circle around the ankle that's connected to the center of the heel. They're pretty high and have a point that would kill anyone who got stepped on, but they look great on. I set them aside.

A red pair is shiny patent leather at the toe with a very sharp point and equally sharp heels. A strap goes from the side of the toe part and around the heel with a little buckle at the back. I like them, too.

Several white pairs are very ugly. One's even got a lace from the toes that wraps around the instep however many times you want, then around the heel and around your ankle all the way up your calf if you want. I figure that would last about five minutes before it would fall down in a pile of tangles around your ankles for the night. No.

The next white pair is more restrained with the same idea. The toe part is fastened to the shoe and the heel, then crosses in front of my ankle and ties at the back. I like that.

I don't like any of the blue ones and they're all strange colors that don't come close to the dress. I pick out black and white pairs like the red ones.

One pair is a little too high but I think they're sexy with a buckle that covers the white leather over the toes, leaving two toes visible, a middle part and heel that narrows so it is almost invisible under your foot, and then has a strap around the ankle with a second buckle covering it. It sort of looks like you're going barefoot with just those buckles.

Pairs of black and white plain pumps, but higher than those I've had before, can be used for work.

The salesman is almost as happy with the sale as he has been looking under my skirt and rubbing my feet and legs from toes to knee.

I'm surprised that they all seem quite comfortable in spite of being higher than I'm used to. He rings up the bill.

"Now Frederick's?" Phillis asks as we hit the street, even more laden with packages now.

"No way," I say. "Bernice is already going to be pissed. Let's drop by my car and unload before we go back to the office."

When we get back, it is only a few minutes to quitting time. I drop in on Bernice and give her the card slips and, when she looks at them, she says, "Very reasonable. I spend about 10 times that every time I go shopping. I just can't hold myself back."

"Maybe I was paying by the yard of goods," I say with a grin. She cringes a little.

"This short?"

"Short and low," I say.

"Well, hope he likes them?" I nod in the same hope. We'll soon see. I just have enough time to get dinner, if Linda has made something, and get dressed.

Chapter 8

I CAN SMELL the dinner when I walk through the door and yell notification of my arrival.

Like a barefoot and pregnant wife, Linda comes out of the kitchen in a simple cotton dress she'd changed into after work. As she wraps her arms around my neck, I know that she is wearing nothing under the thin layer of cotton. She ignores the several bags of clothing I carry, to give me a smiling welcome home kiss. A very deep kiss. I love it.

"Hey, Linda," I say. "Help me pick out something to wear tonight?"

"Did you get a lot of good things?" she asks.

"Yeah, you'll like them. Promise." I look at her with anticipation. "Help me pick out something."

As I go upstairs to the bedroom, she turns down the heat on the dinner and then follows me.

I just got the things out of the bags when she comes into the room.

"Oh, honey! How pretty!" she says. "Try them on for me!"

"That's why I wanted you to look. I mean in particular," I say. "You've got to help me pick for tonight."

"Yes. Start with the red one."

I strip quickly and then put on the red stockings before pulling the red dress over my head. She likes it even better with the bright red shoes.

"Hot?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Fantastic! I should have been having you pick out clothes," she said with a broad smile.

"Black or blue?" I ask, pointing at them on the side of the bed.

"Ah, blue," she says.

I hesitate then pick the black stockings and put them on before stripping out of the lightweight red material and pulling on the blue dress.

"Now the black. Yeah, the black," she says excitedly. I can't believe that it affects her this much. She really seems to be getting excited.

Again, I put on the stockings, the sheer ones now, before taking the dress off. Then I step into the panties and wrap the bra around myself. She giggles at the dress and the way it holds my breasts up and works so hard at not covering my body at all.

She applauds the way the top only displays my breasts and laughs aloud when I sit down and show how the frilly panties only point out the point between my legs.

"That's the one!" she screams. "You've got to wear that. It's not tacky but it's certainly sexy as hell. That's definitely the one. And those shoes are great. It's looks like you're barefoot but much sexier."

"Dinner then?" I ask.

"Sure, but let's do your hair first. And your eyes."

For the next several minutes, she tries different ways of brushing out my hair. Flat and smoothed back. Held back with barrettes. Combs on one side holding it up and over. Combed down across one eye. I veto that because I couldn't see where I was going and I was already having trouble with the shoes without that. Finally, she settles on a very free, fluffed version of how I'd been wearing it since the permanent.

Again, she applies the relatively heavy eye shadow and mascara and then a slightly darker lipstick than I had been wearing during the daytime with my cheekbones outlined relatively lightly with blush. She surprises me with several touches of perfume on my breasts and between, ears, behind the knees, and above the panties on my tummy. She even put a little of the blush on my breasts, making the cleavage more prominent and noticeable than it was before. And that was considerable.

She supplies me with a purse full of brush, lipstick, and mascara before she leads me downstairs and serves me dinner. I slip my car keys into the purse before I sit down and eat.

She feels my bottom under the very short skirt as she shoos me out the door for my trip across town.

"Miss Brewster," the guard says matter-of-factly when I stand next to his station in the lobby. I nod. I'm sure this isn't the same guard that was here this morning. "Please press the button for the top floor in the elevator, then follow the stairs up to Mr. Barnes." He's smiling as if he knows something I don't and is thoroughly enjoying his secret knowledge.

As I wag my ass across the rest of the lobby to the elevators, I physically feel his centered gaze on my ass. When I turn and look back, his eyes come up to my eyes for a second before dropping back to my legs. He's leaning way forward on the high guard station desk. It's unnerving to be watched this closely.

I'm relieved when the door of the elevator closes as I push the button and it begins to rise. I watch the numbers go up the scale above the door. I get ready to get off when the numbers hit 35, the button I pushed and the top on the control panel. It doesn't slow for a moment after the 35 fades out. It must be enabled for a floor above the 35th by the owner.

I step out of the elevator when the doors finally open into a rather small room. It's only feature is a straight, rather unremarkable staircase to the right. I start up the staircase and onto a floor that is much more sumptuous. This is more like what I expected.

The thick, wine-colored carpet catches at my heels as I walk across it to the large doors. To one side of the door is a floor to ceiling mirror perhaps twenty feet tall. To the other side is a window that looks out across the city. I look quickly into the mirror and see that everything is still in place before standing in front of the window and looking at the view.

The door buzzes and opens quietly. I push it open far enough to get in and push it shut behind me. It buzzes again as it closes before I hear a deadbolt slide very firmly and obviously into place inside it.

This entry room is much more impressive with obvious antiques on each side of the broad hallway and bronzed mirrors above their surfaces. The mirrors seem to point down on me though they seem to be hanging straight. I can still see my feet in them. I wait for a moment, thinking someone will come and take me further into the apartment.

Finally, I shrug and walk forward to another high double door. A very large room lies on the other side of the door with a huge curved couch set into the floor. But this is overcome by a panoramic view of the city through 15 foot windows that surround the room on three sides. The darkness outside only highlights the thousands of lights below and the colored undersides of the few clouds above. The light in the room is very subdued with more than half being provided by the reflected light from outside and the moon's beams.

"Amy Brewster," a voice says from somewhere in front of me. "Come in. Join us if you wish. Just excuse me for a few moments."

I walk to the back of the sunken couch, looking for a stairway down into the pit. When I look down, however, all I can see is the most beautiful blond woman I've ever seen, with her legs spread impossibly and a dark head buried between them. She's in ecstasy as the dark head moves between her legs. The hair on the dark head is also very long and concealing only the head of a completely naked woman. Her ass is pointed up from her position on her knees.

"Some people watch movies of an evening," the male voice says. "I generally don't have to. Please sit down."

I see some steps then, along with the man sitting in the chair not too far from the two women on the floor. I walk down the steps into the pit and sit on the couch, being careful with what there is of the skirt to this dress. I can't keep my eyes off the two women as the blond has a noisy, movement filled orgasm, squirming to escape the other woman's head.

"I don't get many reruns or instant replays this way, but it somehow seems so much more lifelike. Besides, Valerie and Karen so enjoy their sales pitch. Just watch."

I do for several minutes as the two women go at it and the blond has at least one more orgasm that bows her back until she is standing on her head with her chest thrust out.

"Which do you think?" his voice says. "Oh, you can't tell, can you. Okay, switch now."

I watch as the dark haired girl lays down on her back and the blond drops between her legs to stroke her tongue there. She holds her long hair aside so I can see what she is doing.

When she takes a breath, I can see the dark haired girl's enlarged clitoris. A very large one, in fact. In only a few minutes the dark haired girl passes from very heavy breathing to an orgasm that sees her clasping her legs around the blond's head tightly, her foot actually pressing at the back of the girl's neck.

"Creditable," the male voice says. "They can actually almost perform on command. A very useful talent for a star in our type of films. So what do you think?"

I find that my mouth is a bit dry when I try to speak and almost croak out some words. "They're ... very pretty," I say.

"Yes. Pretty. Indeed. Actually, they're both absolutely stunning women. But you're not helping with my problem."

"Maybe I could if I knew the problem," I say.

"Perhaps. Perhaps," he says. "I've got one position and two interviewees. One wins and one loses."

The blond's eyes meet mine even though her head is still buried between the dark haired girl's legs.

"What are you interviewing for? A secretary or a porn star?"

"Actually sort of a mixture. She would play a secretary who gets laid by the star before the movie even really gets started."

"If it's a lawyer's office, then neither of them are right because lawyers tend to require receptionists who look like they mean business. On the other hand, if he's a business owner, the blond. All businessmen think blonds are better to put out front for the patrons. However, if there's a closeup, choose the brunette because she's got the sexiest clitoris I've ever seen." This actually takes the brunette over the top and she thrashes and bumps for the next several minutes with her latest climax.

"Ah," he sighs. "All of those things are pertinent. However, I think I'll hire both of them with the understanding that the one who performs best is going to be in the movie and the other will be paid off and shown the door."

I can only shake my head. Competitors for a job and making passionate, and not unpleasant, love to each other. If he wanted accommodating, he certainly would get his money's worth with these two.

"Then again," he says. "Maybe I've a better idea. Girls. I want to see who can take direction the best. The brunette has finished her climax and is looking at him expectantly. The blond has her head turned, looking at him as well. Their hands are stroking each other lovingly. It's obvious that they like each other. Perhaps a great deal.

"I'm going to give each of you two tasks. The one who does them the best, gets the job. The other is out. Understood."

They look at each other with regret but seem to agree, nodding.

He tosses a handful of something onto the carpet beside the girls.

"Clothespins," he says. "Valerie, pick one up now and put it on your left nipple."

The blond does it very quickly and breathes hard as she sits on her knees between the brunette's legs. I can see the sweat on her forehead, something I hadn't noticed or hadn't been there a minute before. It obviously hurts.

"Okay. Karen, do the same thing with your left nipple."

I watch as the girl gets one of the clothespins and very gently clips it to the swollen skin. Her mouth moves but no sound escapes but I can see her lips forming the word. Ow! She is lying back now with a pained look on her face. I can imagine how it hurts and squirm with the thought. I wouldn't want to try that. Karen's breathing is ragged. The blond is still moving uncomfortably with the clothespin hanging from her well formed tit. She seems a great deal less affected by the clothespin, however.

"Karen?" the girl still moves around to the pain of the clothespin. "Karen?"

She finally looks at him and I can see the tear in her eye.

"Karen, pick up another clothespin. That's it. Now put it on Valerie's right nipple." Karen sobs and shakes her head but Valerie leans forward and nods, glad, it seems, that Karen is being made to do her instead of herself.

"It's all right, baby," I can just hear her whisper. Karen finally nods and puts the clothespin on the blond's nipple. Valerie grits her teeth against the new pain and stays leaning a little forward to keep them from twisting even more uncomfortably.

"Fine. Okay," he says. "You're doing very well. Now Valerie. Get the clothespin."

Valerie looks down at her friend and, at least over the last while, lover with a pitying look on her face. Karen forces a pained smile through her feelings and nods very tentatively, steeling herself to what she knows is going to happen.

"Valerie," he says and stops. I can see his nasty grin now in the half light of the room. "Valerie, put the clothespin on Karen's clit."

We all jump at the word.

Karen cringes and turns pasty white. Valerie's head twists around to stare at him, open mouthed. I even look at him like he's crazy. Maybe he is.

As sensitive as this little girl's breasts are, I can only imagine how sensitive that enlarged clit must get after being licked and played with. I can see it plainly.

"Mr. Barnes?" Valerie moans.

"Please, no," Karen moans. "Don't make her. Don't do it to me. Please?"

Valerie is just shaking her head back and forth.

"If you don't do it, Valerie, you're out. If you don't let her, Karen, you're out. Everybody understood?"

Appalled, the two girls look at each other. I watch the frozen tableau for a minute. Valerie's hand moves between her friend's legs and Karen pales still further, cringing away from her hand. Valerie brings her hand back up. Karen begins to cry.

"That's all," I say into the strange silence. I reach down and take the clothespin from Valarie's hand and throw it across the room. I think about taking the other clothespins off and decide I might hurt them. "You don't want damaged goods, Mr. Barnes," I say through clenched teeth. "How well would a painfully swollen clit photograph?"

"Yes. Maybe you're right. How about, they put those clothespins on you instead. After all, you don't even want to be photographed."

I stand up. "I also don't want this contract that badly. Thank you for speaking to me, Mr. Barnes." I start to go up the steps.

"Okay, okay. Admirable. Please come back and sit down, Miss Brewster. Thank you girls. You're both hired and we'll find a place to use you." In a second, the two girls take the clothespins off and stride up the steps past me, looking back at the man in the chair. Both touch my hand on the way by in a kind of thank you gesture.

Both girls grab a handful of material and shoes near the door and the door closes behind them.

"That was cruel, Mr. Barnes. Neither of them could comply with that and it was just a question of which would refuse the fastest. And what would you have done if Valerie had done it and Karen had just laid there and taken it?"

"Just what I did, actually. I always intended to hire both of them. I was just having a little fun."

"Fun?" He nodded and put an innocent look on his face.

"I don't think either of them would say they had fun tonight."

"You always give the advice you believe in? Even if you know the person you're giving it to isn't going to like it?"

Now I knew what this was all about. I nodded as I sat down again. "I try to. Yes."

"And what would you do for the contract, Miss Brewster?" I looked at him, wondering what his price was going to be.

"As you've seen, there are some things I won't put up with for business."

"Yes. Indeed. Well, would you be willing to be in some photographs for the business." I nodded. "Nude photos?" I frowned. I'd have a difficult time doing that.

"What's your name, Miss Brewster?" I looked at him, wondering.

"Amy," I answered.

"Really. I did some research on your company. And there was a Michael Brewster but no Amy. I wonder why that is. Your ... husband?" I knew I was caught.

"Okay. You obviously know about me, Mr. Barnes."

"Not all about you. No."

"Okay. Until last Friday, I was Mike Brewster. Really, I guess, until about six months ago. Since then, I've sort of been a mixture of Mike and Amy Brewster."

"How fascinating," he said brightly. "But you didn't answer my question. Would you be willing to pose for some photographs? Not for local distribution, you know. Probably private. Or that could even be guaranteed."

I waited for him to continue. What was this?

"You must have a secret to have those rather considerable looking tits. Padding? Breast forms?"

"No."

"No? What does that mean?"

"It means no, no breast forms or padding."

"They're real?" I only look at him as he stares at my chest. "How?"

My arms are crossed under the objects of discussion and I feel more like walking out of here than I have since I arrived. "Estrogen," I sigh.

"Oooo. That does damage elsewhere. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, I guess," I say. "There were some problems. But they've passed."

"Passed. You mean it went away," he said with a smirk.

"No. It didn't. Nothing did."

"You haven't had surgery then?"

I only shake my head and glare at him.

"Now listen, I'm really ..." He holds up a hand and interrupts me.

"Miss Brewster," he says with emphasis on the "miss". "I'm about to offer you the biggest contract your company has ever handled. After we've worked out some details."

"Okay, there's strings. What are these details?"

"Oh, several. But one thing at a time." He smiles. "The photographs?"

"The photographs. You want pictures before you'd sign a contract. Right?"

"That makes it sound too much like extortion. No, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to freely agree to a photo session. We can even combine it with business, if you like. We can talk at the same time. And I can tell you what I have in mind. It is probably a kind of modification to what you were prepared to ask me for when you came here tonight."

"But only with the pictures," I say with understanding. It sounds like extortion to me.

"No. If you truly don't want to do the photo session, I will not insist on it, as much as I would like it. I will, however, offer you a second contract right now. Just between you and me. A full photo session with a signed release for distribution outside the country in exchange for ... let's see. For $100,000. Not for your company. Just for you."

"$100,000. Just for one photo session. Tonight, right?" He nods. I have a terrible thought. "No pain. No clothespins or cattle prods or whips and chains. Right?"

"Unless you specifically ask for them." He grins.

He stood and offered his arm before leading me down the stairway and through a door I hadn't seen when I left the elevator earlier. I'm surprised. He's really quite a good looking man in a ruddy, dark haired way. Perhaps in his late 40's or early 50's. Tall and solidly built. I really hadn't noticed while he was sitting across the room.

"Mr. Barnes! Good evening, sir," the mincing little man says as we walk into the large room. "Ohhhhh!" he says looking at me and picking with two fingers at the frills over my left breast. "What a beautiful woman! Oh, yes! This will be just wonderful."

He makes me nervous.

"You're all set up?" Barnes asks.

"Yes, yes, of course, sir."

"You may not like Sonny personally, Amy," Barnes says to me, still in front of the man. Sonny's fixed smile drops. "But you'll love his work. He's as good at photography as he is strange to be around." Finally Sonny's face decides on acceptance of the very left handed compliment to his talents and apparently ignores the more personal references. "On the other hand, Sonny. You're going to love everything about working with Amy." He smiles knowingly and is answered by a tentative smile from Sonny.

"Oh, yes, I'm just sure I'm going to love every minute," he says with an overly large and completely false smile. I can hear some hesitancy in his words, though. "As we spoke about the shoot, sir?"

"Yes, Sonny. Just as we discussed."

"Would someone like to tell me?" I ask.

"I'll just lead you through everything, my dear. Just do as I say and we'll just do fabulously!"

Now I purposefully look around the room. There are a series of photographic light fixtures, shaped like umbrellas to properly reflect the lights, all around a comfortable looking white couch. On the floor in front of the couch is a white rug made of long, soft looking fibers. Maybe a real bearskin rug, I grin to myself. Three large video cameras are mounted on tripods -- one directly in front of the couch, one to the right and one to the left. Between these, two expensive looking 35 mm cameras sit on their own tripods. Wires snake across the floor to everything. Two other cameras sit on a nearby table. One is a Hasselblad that, I know from having priced one ten years ago, is worth about $10,000. With the array of lenses beside it, I'd guess at another $10,000. All of the cameras are motorized advance, I can see. I'd guess at about $200,000 worth of photo equipment in sight and all focused on that couch.

The light, for now, is very subdued from indirect lighting in tracks around the room and some spotlights aimed at the ceiling.

To one side of the photo setup area is a large bed covered with white, billowy, feather coverlets and masses of pillows. Behind the bed is the largest single piece mirror I've ever seen. Another set of equipment is set up here.

The rest of the large room has almost a warehouse feel to it.

"No sound, to start, right, Sonny?"

"Yes, sir." His irritation shows a little in his voice. He couldn't say "I'm a professional, leave me alone" any more plainly without writing it on a billboard.

"First, my dear," Sonny says to me, "please sit down and let me get some color and light readings. This will only take a minute." He pushes me toward the couch and I sit down. Turning to the table as I perch on the edge of the couch with my knees tightly together, he picks up a light meter and puts the neck strap of another, bigger instrument around my neck.

"Oh, no," he says as he looks at me then. "Please sit back in the cushions and relax. This really won't hurt. I promise."

He's trying to put me at ease but his entire manner puts me on edge. I sit back on the couch and continue to hold my knees together, my arms clasped under my breasts.

I watch his lips move as he holds the light meter near my face, my chest, the front of the bra, the front of my thinly clad stomach, and then my legs and knees. He puts the light meter in a small holster at his hip and does the same thing with the other piece of equipment. This must be some type of color meter. He moves to each of the cameras, resetting lenses.

With a flick of a switch, he turns on the photo lights that, to my surprise, are also very restrained. It sort of looks like daylight around me.

He repeats all the measurements and resets each of the camera lenses. Moving to the table, he lifts one of several 35 mm cameras and puts the strap around his neck. He returns to me, takes my hand very lightly, and leads me back to Barnes. He returns to the table to set a little white timer and then turns back. Barnes is standing there with his arms crossed just as I am. Impatient.

"Okay. Okay," Sonny says nervously. "I understand you and Mr. Barnes have a discussion that needs ... discussing. That's just perfect. React as you would normally. I mean just ignore me and my camera. When I need something, I'll interrupt and ask for it, all right? Okay? Yes. Okay."

He turns to the photo setup. "What I want, before you start talking, is for you to move to the couch and sit down on the center cushion. From there, just do what seems natural. Okay? Okay. As we go, I'll ask for some things. Yes. I said that. Well, then I guess we're off just as soon as I start the video. I'll say 'Go' and then you, ah, go. Okay? Okay." His nervousness is contagious. I'm a bundle of nerves now.

He walks to the furthest video camera and starts it, the center one, and finally the near one.

"Okay? Go now. Okay?"

He crouches on the floor near the center video camera and aims the one in his hands at me. I walk toward the couch. He starts to snap pictures, the motor advance whirs. The other cameras, I can hear, shoot at the same time from their tripods. I'm sure I've never had this much attention in my life. It's embarrassing and I can feel myself blushing.

Very conscious of the cameras, I sit down on the edge of the couch as carefully as I have ever done in my life.

"Be comfortable now," he whispers. "Sit back in the seat."

I slide back on the cushion, very conscious of my very short skirt as I do. I push the hem between my legs a little as I sit back.

"Is it all right if we talk business now, Sonny?"

"Yes, yes!" he snorts. "Anything to loosen her up. My goodness! So uptight! My goodness!"

"Okay, Miss Amy Brewster," Barnes says. "Your company. First, let me say that I got a full report on your visit this morning. You got a barely adequate tour of the main floors of the building. Just what you were supposed to get. Phil is a little dickhead, isn't he?"

For the first time in some time I find myself smiling a little. I nod. The camera's shutter keeps clicking and automatically advancing. Sometimes it seems like it clicks several times in a second.

"We can do a great deal for you, Mr. Barnes."

"I realize that, Amy. And please call me Bill."

"Your accounting practices are five years out of date ..." I begin, but he interrupts me again.

"Let me stop you before we spend a lot of time on the mundane," he says. I cross my legs and unclasp my crossed arms a little. It sets off a flurry of photographs, I notice, frowning at the clicking machines. Sonny is standing directly in front of one of the video cameras, I see. I don't care.

"Excuse me," I say. "Sonny? Why the cameras to the sides if you are shooting it all from the best angles?"

"Actually," he says without stopping, "at this point, those cameras have the better angles. Later, mine will probably take precedence. But please continue to ignore me. Those were the best shots I've gotten yet."

"I'm sorry," I say to Barnes, returning my attention to him.

"That's all right. I was wondering the same thing." He has a very nice smile, I think. "To business. Anyway, you already have a signed contract to evaluate the systems in the administrative, database, and ordering areas. A modest contract, I think, and a very reasonable one I might add. Very good estimating on your Miss Bernice's behalf. Vic what's-his-name did that. Right?"

"Yes --" I start to continue.

"However, I would never have even talked to him further. It was time for a change and you certainly represent the best of that." Without really noticing it, I have turned on the couch toward him and have one arm resting on the back comfortably. The camera is still clicking and whirring.

"You are, Miss Amy, the savior of the business. Now, what I want to tell you is that you aren't going to just do an evaluation of the adequacy of my system. I've known for some time that it is inadequate to the needs in virtually all areas. With the possible exception of the databases. The on-line services. But those badly need some help with access from the outside. Right?"

"Yes," I say, my mouth open in surprise. I thought I was going to have to sell this idea hard.

"Your company has the contract. I'll expect an estimate of cost by the end of the week and we can sign some time this weekend or the beginning of next week." He smiles again. I realize my fingers are now playing with the side of my hair, a habit I've picked up since my permanent. I can't keep from smiling back. The camera clicks and whirs.

"I know that there are some new areas of interest for your company --" I begin before he raises his hand to stop me.

"As you very well know, I'm getting into several new outlets. The video is pretty well established but now CD-ROM and the alternate on-line services are up and running. Have you seen any of their advertising?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Or maybe I don't recognize it as yours."

"Perhaps. At any rate, the whole thing is being very poorly handled. Tomorrow, I'd like you to come to this floor to meet with me. We'll go through the more clandestine areas of the building then.

"Oh, by the way, so Phil doesn't get too bad a rap. He has no idea what's on the top floors of this building or buried inside the mainframe. He's not very good at keeping a secret, so he isn't told any secrets."

I couldn't help but clap my hands in enjoyment. I also uncrossed my legs before I noticed and restored my old position.

"Do you think you could make it for breakfast about, oh, 8:30 or 9?"

"Sure," I say.

"Good. You know. Your little intelligence unit is really pretty good. I mean your company's."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. I would have missed that they'd been into some things if it weren't for a very vigilant secretary on the second floor. When Vic took her out a couple of weeks ago and fucked her limited brains out, she had the grace to tell her supervisor the next morning. Bragged actually."

I laugh uproariously, throwing my head back. When I close my eyes, the clicking of the camera comes into my consciousness and I realize that I've adopted a rather strange new habit that I haven't noticed until this moment. When I laugh hard, I slide my uppermost leg up across my thigh almost to the ankle. I know it's a quite feminine movement and wonder where in the world I picked it up. Linda never does this. I quickly recover but know that it's already far too late.

I blush a little and look at Sonny before returning my attention to Barnes.

"You're enjoying yourself much more now, aren't you," he says.

"Yes. Yes, I am." I think for a moment. "I'm curious though."

He waits for my question.

"Why the show upstairs?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I needed some stars and I didn't want them to think it was too easy. And I enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

"No," I say. "I really didn't. I guess you have to be a woman ..." I was going to say, "to appreciate that pain," but I realized what I was saying. After all, I'm not a woman.

This time, he laughs and even claps his hands.

I'll bet Sonny is confused but he never pauses in recording everything happening.

"Tomorrow, when you've seen the system and the extent of the problems, we can discuss what we are going to do about it. Okay?"

"Agreed," I answer.

"Okay. So now you know you are going to share in your company's great good fortune. At least to the extent of your 25 percent of the company." I smile at him.

"Maybe your intelligence isn't so good. I bought into Sam Prescott's partnership a few months ago. It's 35 percent now."

"Okay. Then 35 percent of a starting contract of, what would you guess, maybe $200,000?" I nod. "There's 70 grand. This other, I don't know. I rough guess it over a million."

"Really? That big. I mean, your systems are that big?"

"Yeah. I was being conservative in hopes that your company would be, too." He grins boyishly. "There's another 350."

I nod with what I'm sure is a stupid smile on my face. Bernice is going to shit when I tell her. This could easily be the biggest contract we've ever had. Easily.

"Now I've got a question." I look at him dumbly. "Does $100,000 really mean what it did to you an hour ago?"

Now I know what he's talking about. This photo session. And suddenly I remember the clicking camera and where I am.

"I'll have to admit. It doesn't have the same impact. But, then again, since it didn't mean enough to me to do this in the first place, it has very little more effect now?" Now he looks shocked.

"It didn't mean much to you?"

"No," I say with a smile, my head shaking lightly. "I'm only doing it because it sounded like a lark. Getting paid for it, too, is just gravy."

"So, you don't need the money?" I laugh with him and notice my leg come up again.

"I didn't say I wouldn't take it. Only an idiot does anything for free unless its love and I don't really think that was a consideration."

Now he's about to fall on the floor laughing and I know my smile is from ear to ear. I'm glad he's taking it this way. I was afraid he might not.

"Oh, you're wonderful!" he says. "So refreshing."

I can only smile back at him. I like him.

"Okay," he finally says. "What did you think you were going to do for that money?" There's a smile in his voice now that hadn't been there before. It was all business then. What he could buy. Now we were both enjoying ourselves. I notice that I'm really loose now. No stage fright and the cameras are just noisy accompaniment.

"I was going to seductively take my clothes off and show you I'm no lady." He understands the real meaning of the joke and laughs hard again. I know Sonny has no idea at all and enjoy knowing that. I just hope he doesn't lose his camera when he understands.

"Do you want to take my clothes off or do you prefer to stay in the background?" I ask then.

"No, no. This is your show. I'm just here to break the ice."

I nod. "Get ready, Sonny," I say. "The good stuff's coming."

Again Bill guffaws.

I reach behind my back with both hands and unfasten the fluffy top of the dress. It doesn't loosen in the least because the straps go under the shoulder straps of the dress. I put my hand over my right breast and gently massage it, looking at Bill who is, in turn staring at the back of my hand.

I let my fingers loosen the top a little as I slide them under the top. Sonny almost leaps in front of my eyes, between Bill and I, to snap a picture before Bill leans to the side over his shoulder. I smile.

Two of my fingers find my nipple and I'm a little surprised to notice that it's already swollen. It feels good but I exaggerate the feeling several fold by closing my eyes most of the way and letting my tongue find my lips. I even release a little moan for them.

Then, with my other hand, I pull one side of the top from under the dress's restraining straps. I slide the palm of my hand over the nearly exposed breast. Then I do the same thing with the other side of the bra, covering one breast with my hand and the other with my crossed arm. I drop the top on the couch beside me pointedly before looking back up at Bill over the photographer's shoulder. He acts as if he is going to swat Sonny on the head because he got in the way of his view. It makes me smile again. This is fun.

I turn my hand so that, when I look down, I can see my swollen nipple but it isn't visible to them yet. My tongue is on my lip. Another interesting female move I didn't realize I had picked up until this minute. With the other hand, I reach down into the cup of my palm and, with two fingers, roll the soft flesh in my fingers.

"Do you want to see it?" I ask Bill as the camera clicks and whirs.

"Fuck yes!" he almost screams. "For God's sake."

I continue holding it in my fingers as I roll my palm off it. I'm gratified when I hear his, "Oh, yeah!" sigh. "Beautiful!" Sonny says in a mumble. The top of the dress actually holds my breasts up as I move my arm and my fingers from them. "Fantastic!" both men say in unison.

I lean back on the couch with my legs crossed at the knee onto my elbows, watching Bill and, indirectly, the camera. I display. I let my head fall all the way back until I can feel my hair dangling straight toward the cushion. Sonny shoots full time with the automatic rewind advancing the camera as fast as one shot is taken.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he says then. "I have to reload. Ah. Can you ... ah ... oh, shit."

"I'll stay right here," I say. I look at Bill and see him settle into his cross-armed stance again but this time with a knowing smile on his face.

Sonny absolutely flies across the room to reload film in the hand held camera and then the other two 35 mm cameras. Now he has the Hasselblad as well. "One thousand shot cartridge," he says as he pats the big camera. "Guess he's not going to miss anything else."

"Okay, Amy, I'm ready." I've chilled out in the two minute break but I work to regain it, looking at Bill and his smile. I reach up and tweak the nipple of one breast again and hear the camera begin to shoot again. I let my head go back as it was and feel the wanton feeling of my bare chest being raised to view as I did a minute before.

It's really getting to me. I can feel myself getting hard under the frilly skirt and can only hope that it doesn't show yet. I let my leg lift upward until one high heel is nearly touching the back of my thigh. With the frilly panties, I don't think they can see anything yet even though I'm really hard and getting uncomfortable with that.

I lay back flat on the couch and use both hands to rub my breasts and then to pull on my nipples. Looking between the fleshy mounds, I can see Bill holding his hand to his mouth. He's smiling broadly and enjoying every movement. But he doesn't want to add any more comments.

"Oh, yes, baby," Sonny mumbles. He's even got a hard-on I can see in his Chinos. I continue to play with my nipples for several minutes until they are almost painfully sensitive. Even the areola are swollen now.

"Do you want my panties now?" I ask huskily. Bill smiles and nods, still holding his hand across his mouth.

"Yes. Now. That's good. Slow now," Sonny says. "Let me get it all. Yes." His words are almost moans.

I put my thumbs in the sides of the panties and lift my bottom from the couch. Click. Click. The Hasselblad comes up and into action. It's motor control is much faster than the 35 mm. Maybe 1000 shots isn't enough. It's almost like movie film.

I push the panties downward until they are on the fronts of my thighs and quickly ensure that my front is still covered by the skirt. It is. I push the panties to my knees, bending one and pointing the other to the far wall. Bill is frozen. I settle my bottom back onto the couch and lift both feet to slide the panties off and, being very careful, across my sexy shoes.

I spread my legs, the short skirt falling between them, as I drop the panties onto the floor. Again I put my thumbs into the sides, this time of my pantyhose, and push down. With no support, now I have to be more careful. I bend up at the waist, my breasts dropping onto my knees, as I push the pantyhose to my ankles. They are effectively tied together as I spread my knees and put my hands across the front of the skirt provocatively.

Bill's smile is about to break his face as he stands behind the photographer with his hand still on his mouth. He's watching very closely. The camera is still clicking regularly but not as fast as a few moments ago.

"Okay, now," Sonny says. "Real slow now. Let's see it. Okay?" I grin broadly at Bill as I start rubbing across the front of the skirt, lifting it by fractions of an inch. He moves his hands away from his mouth then and puts them behind Sonny as if to catch him. I laugh out loud. I can feel my hardness in the same hand as I can feel the hem of the skirt.

I look at Sonny now and in a slow, steady movement, pull the skirt up until it is above my hard cock. Then, one hand under my remnant balls, I wrap my other hand around it and peel back the loose skin, letting the purple head of it stand out a couple of inches above my fist.

"Oh, God! Oh, my god! Jesus! Oh, oh," Sonny says as he falls back toward Bill. Bill actually catches and supports him in his near fall. The Hasselblad is now locked on shoot and clicks off pictures like a movie as I stroke myself. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, " Sonny continues. "Oh, look at that! Oh, shit!"

I can't believe it as I watch the front of his pants become dark with his climax. "Ohhhhhh!" he says.

And at that second the whole idea gets to me. My come shoots up over the frilly skirt material onto my breasts. One spurt even lands on my face. And then I feel it all over my hand.

Feeling something on my cheek, I put out my tongue and lick it. Salty. My own come, I think. I haven't shot a wad like that since I was about 12.

Bill really is holding Sonny up now though the man's finger has never left the shutter release of the camera.

I collapse, releasing my softening dick, falling into the perfect afterglow. I hear the Hasselblad stop, stutter, and begin re-rolling the film at high speed. I wonder if Sonny will survive as I hear Bill's loud laughter ringing through the room.

Chapter 9

BILL LAUGHS AS he holds Sonny up from his "swoon." Then I take over, after taking my shoes and panties off, leading him to the restroom by one arm. He almost protests before we both go into the restroom together. I think he was going to tell me where the girl's room was and then reality hit him again and he almost collapsed.

I was in a very strange position. With my own come dripping down my face and naked breasts, I made a wonderful sight, I'm sure. My partially hard member insisted on trying to hold the skirt up by itself. While I helped Sonny, it was on its own.

The bathroom, though it truly was a men's room, had the homey touch of a bath, shower, and towels and washcloths in addition to a couple of stalls, three urinals, and a row of sinks. There were also a set of school style lockers to one side beside a wooden bench.

At least this is available, I think as I let Sonny go into the stall.

"Oh, my," he keeps saying over and over. "Oh, my, what a mess. Oh, my." But he sounds pretty happy as he cleans up.

Meanwhile, I wash my face and my still naked chest. Carefully, I brush the few small spots of come on the front of the dress that clings below my soft tits. Then, lifting the skirt up and holding it with one elbow, I work on my dick. The end of it, of course, is coated with come and it has dribbled down my leg as well. This is the position I'm in as Sonny leaves the stall.

Seeing him in the mirror, I wonder if he's going to have a heart attack. His face goes white, his breathing increases erratically, he holds his hand to his chest. The signs are right. He can hardly walk as he crosses the two steps to stand in front of me, his eyes wide, to watch me.

Trying to make it easier on him, I pull my skirt back down.

"Oh, such a surprise!" he says effusively, touching my shoulder. "I just thought I'd have a heart attack right there!" he squeals.

I can only smile as I lead him out of the bathroom. I return to stand in front of the couch but Sonny starts to vibrate. "Oh, no, no, no!" He says loudly. "We're all done here. My goodness!"

Bill, who's standing near the couch, leans near my ear. "I think you have a fan," he says softly. I smile. "Actually," he says then, "you've got a couple of fans." He's staring at my exposed breasts. I blush again and step away from him.

"Okay. Okay!" Sonny says as he bounds around the other set of cameras near the bed. "Okay. Now. Oh, yes."

"You've made his day," Bill says.

"It seems," I say equally as softly.

"Please! Please, Amy. Come here!" Sonny says. "Here," he says, thrusting a white handful of lacy material at me. "Put this on, right now. Quickly! We don't want to waste Mr. Barnes' time. Just this one more shoot now!"

But he freezes, watching me, as I pull the straps off my shoulders and wriggle the dress off my hips. They've grown and my waist has shrunk since I began taking the estrogen. They really look very good and I've been pleased. But I haven't displayed it quite like this before.

As I stand naked, he starts the video cameras again and stoops and bobs into new still camera shots. I'm not too embarrassed because I'm not particularly turned on. At least my dick points leisurely downward.

"Panties first. Yes. Oh yes! Very nice," he exudes. He's obviously having fun now. "Yes. Now do you tuck it back? Oh, yes. Yes!" he says as I do it and pull the panties of the white nightgown tight. The front of it certainly wouldn't have covered it and the tiny stretch of material between my legs only barely covers and holds it.

I drop the lacy nightie over my head. "Personally," Bill says with a grin, "I like the top." He's looking at my breasts.

"Yes, very nice," Sonny says with less interest. I'm still just standing in front of the bed. "Now move back onto the bed. On your knees, okay?"

"Is it going to disturb your session if I talk to her?" Bill says.

"Oh, no sir!" Sonny answers quickly. "Please just move around on the bed. Do what you feel is natural. But go ahead and talk if you wish. That's just fine."

"So, did you just wake up one morning and decide you wanted to be a beautiful woman?" Bill asked. I blushed at the compliment.

"No. Actually, my wife made me do it." I don't know what made me admit that. I could have said almost anything.

"Made you?"

"Uh, huh." I was watching Sonny's moves with the camera and trying to do something interesting for him even if it was just swinging my hair around my face or something. He seemed to like that.

"She made you become a beautiful woman?"

"Well, if I'm beautiful, I don't think she intended that. She was just very pissed at me one night and decided to humiliate me."

"Humiliate you this way?"

"Oh, it's lasted for six months and really been quite effective. She gave me the pills without my knowing it for quite a while. I mean, I had enlarged nipples and about A cups before she told me about it. She never offered to stop giving them to me."

"So you did all this under duress?" I nod.

"I never even had any idea I could pass for a woman in public until she forced me."

"Really? What did the first time out feel like?"

"That was the night she got mad at me. There wasn't much choice. It was either do what she said or pack and I didn't want to pack. I love her."

"Oh, my," Sonny says with disgust. He is still aiming and shooting as I move around.

"She made me go to a hotel near our house to get a paper for her. Dressed in a dress and high heels. Then she caught up with me and took me into the lounge. Then I had to play the part the best I could or get killed."

"I've been there!" Sonny says with sincerity.

"Why's that?" Bill asks.

"There were a couple of truckers who were hanging around for Linda. Maybe for me a little. I mean I danced a few times that night."

"Ooooo, truckers. Just so big and strong and healthy. From turning that big steering wheel, I think," Sonny hissed.

"For months, she made me wear women's clothing all the time at home but let me go to work as a man. Then Monday, she changed the rules."

"Probably because you're getting so stacked," Bill said. "Are you still growing?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Have you changed below? I mean your dick?"

"Yeah, it's a little smaller and ... I don't know ... I get turned on differently than I used to. What I think of as more feminine ways."

"It's smaller now?" Sonny says. "Oh, for before!"

I can only giggle at him. He really is cute in an obvious sort of way.

"Have you gotten laid? As a woman?"

"Yeah." I can't think why I'm sharing this sort of intimate information with Bill.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Ah, yeah. Yeah, I did." I smile.

"Have you thought about the future?" Bill asks. "It seems you have some very interesting possibilities. More than most people." Though I have thought a little about them, he ticks them off. "You can stop taking the pills and start dressing as a man. You can have the surgery and become a full fledged woman. Or you can stay just as you are. Right?"

"I guess those are the options."

"Which do you prefer?"

"I'm not sure. I spent a lot of years as a man. I don't think I had as much fun as I've had in the last six months. And, besides, I like women's clothes." I look at Sonny. "Besides, I have my own pair of tits to play with." I do it for the cameras and the tempo of the shutter clicks increases. I know my nipples are hard again and my dick is straining at the little strip of material between my legs.

"I think I'd probably prefer being a full fledged woman, but I don't see that happening for a while." I look at Bill. "At least until I get some percentages of all that cash you've been talking about. I understand the surgery can be quite expensive if it's well done. That's the only way I'd want it done."

"I guess it can be almost microscopically perfect," Bill says then. "For the right price, as you say."

I lay back on the bed and hump my center up in the air for Sonny, my smooth tummy showing through the panty material to the pubic area. Tucked like this, it doesn't hardly show at all. I start getting myself excited as I rub across that material with one hand and pinch my swollen nipples with the other.

"I understand you have to live as a woman for a full year, with a little professional counseling thrown in before you can have the surgery."

"You're very well informed. You didn't call someone today to learn about this, did you?" I know he had.

"Of course," he says. "I wouldn't buy a toaster without knowing everything I could about it. That's more true when you're buying someone's services."

"Of course." It peeves me a little. He doesn't even depend on luck or honesty for anything. I guess you don't make the big money with luck or dependance on someone else's honesty. Too bad you can't.

"Now I want to talk about a couple more deals with you. You did come to talk business, right?" he smiles.

"Yes, I did," I answer as coolly as you can when you are hunched up on a feather bed, playing with your tits and rubbing your stomach through an almost clear stretch of white material in front of three video cameras and a roving photographer.

"Okay. First, I'd like to make a movie with you as the star. See how many ways there are to make love to that fabulous body in front of a camera. High production values. The best supporting stars I can find. What do you think?"

"I'm not a movie star. I don't know if I could even act if I had to."

"Well, though the production values will be high, there doesn't seem to be a real in-depth plot line to this kind of thing. A few well practiced lines and then some choreography. And as sexy as you are, most of that will come naturally."

"I'll have to think about it. But I'm not saying no outright. Okay?"

"Fair enough. The other thing is a project I've thought about for a while. Sort of a documentary. I've just been looking for a subject worthy of the effort. And I think I've got it."

"What's that?" I am laying on my side now, leaning on my forearm and looking at him.

"I'd like to document your last few months and the next few."

"My life? You're kidding?"

"Not at all. First it would be a hell of a sexy thing. The other is that I believe a lot of men think about what it would be like to be a woman. Even to change. You did before it started happening, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," I nod.

"We'd start by seeing if we could bundle you up enough to look like your old self."

"I wouldn't cut my hair for this," I say quickly.

"Okay. That can be handled. Then move up through all your experiences until now."

"Okay," I say hesitantly. It sounds all right if a little boring.

"Then we do some covert filming of your work with a counselor. If we kept it completely out of sight, even kept the psychologist from knowing about the filming, you could do that, couldn't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose." For some reason, I'm rubbing between my legs now and squirming a little. Why in the world should this excite me?

"Then we'll move to filming of your interviews with your doctor and the planning for the surgery."

"I already told you that might be a long way off, if I do it at all."

"If you're not sure you want to do it, that's something I'm sure the counseling will discover. Right? Isn't that what the counseling is for?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But I still can't afford it. Not with a good doctor and the best possible operating conditions."

"That's nothing. That's just part of the minor costs of film production."

"You mean, you'd pay for the operation in return for being able to film it?"

"Sort of. Of course, you'd be well paid as the star, as well. I mean, this has nothing to do with your salary for the work. This is a production cost, after all." He's grinning from ear to ear. I'm feeling a little faint.

I roll back onto my back and look up at the ceiling toward the overhead mirror I hadn't noticed before. Sonny looks like he's shooting straight down from it to me. I ignore him.

"I don't know anything about the surgery," I protest.

"If it's only crossed your mind, I'm sure that's true. Remember you'll have six months or more to make the final decision. And, I want to emphasize, you don't have to agree to the surgery if you don't truly want it. Right up to the minute they start cutting."

I cringe physically at that word. It makes my dick curl up as if in defense, seeking a way out. I'm looking at the spot between my legs now in the mirror instead of Sonny, who's still reflected in it as well. I can see he has a small bald spot developing in the crown of his head. I spread my legs somewhat, one bent at the knee and stuck under the other leg, making a figure four. I rub it in a kind of sympathy.

"Oh, such a waste," Sonny moans. "Such a waste."

"And I can pull out anytime, right?"

"That's what I said. Absolutely." I can hear the smile in his voice. He knows he's got me and so do I. "Then, of course, we'd follow you for a while after the surgery. Your recovery. Your checkups. Your love life for a while, of course. Would that be a problem?"

"Shit!" I say suddenly. "You're planning on closeups of them cutting my dick off and think I'd be worried about being filmed while I got laid the first time?"

"You wouldn't then?" he asks.

"If it gets that far, I don't think that would bother me at all." I put my arm under the back of my head then, leaning it forward. Sonny is right in front of me, still taking pictures. "But ... One contract at a time. Right? Sonny, tell me what to do."

"Wonderful. Yes!" he says. "Okay. Okay. Okay, now. Now just roll up onto your knees. Yes! Wonderful. Very nice. Let's give the straights something to think about now. Yes. Straight down that big open collar. Yes!"

He's shooting from five feet in front of me and looking right down between my breasts. When I drop my head, I can see my nipples very plainly, my distended breasts, and down to my knees where they press into the bed. I look up at him with what I hope is a sexy smile.

"The top. Yes. Off with the top, now."

I sit up on my knees and lift the light material over my head. I purposely act as if my arms are tied up in the material for a moment, both arms above my head and my tits completely exposed to the camera.

"Move to this side, Sonny," Bill says from my right. "A magnificent view for us 'straights' if I ever did see one."

"Keep looking to your front, Amy. Yes. Perfect." Of course, he's immediately begun moving to the side with Bill. I drop the nightie on the bed and reach down for a nipple in a finger and the thumb of each hand. I look at them as I roll the flesh for a minute. Then I pull them gently until they're almost cone shaped. I slide my hands under the mounds of flesh and bounce them and knead them. My head goes back, my hair hanging down and tickling the skin of my back as I do.

"Naturally sexy," one of the men says softly. I don't know when I did it, but I'm straight up on my knees, my body a line from knee to neck, broken only by those sensitive mounds.

Now I slide the red-tipped fingers of one hand down across my stomach slowly until I feel the top of the tiny panties. I let my hand slide into it and between my legs. I risk a look to the side by shaking my head slowly back and forth, as if with the terrific feelings of it. Sonny has moved one of the set cameras and one of the video cameras to the position to my side and now ranges toward my front and then around to my backside and then again to the side and the front.

I try simulating a woman with her fingers between her legs, rubbing my fingers on either side of my radically bent dick there. I do that over and over until I feel the possibility of losing my hold on it and having it fall out one of the leg holes. I bend forward suddenly, almost as if I'm in the throes of a climax, and clasp my knees together before making room in the crotch of the panties and turning myself so I point up in a more comfortable position.

Covertly, I guide it up the pantyline toward my hip. My hand hides it somewhat as I rise back to my straight-backed position on my knees. I continue to rub between my legs and, in the process, straighten my shrunken testicles. But this has the effect of turning me on more than before.

I watch as Sonny moves behind me. It's as if he's looking for it specially, trying to unmask me before I'm ready. I slide my fingers far between my legs and pull the panties aside back there. My fingers move across the sensitive spot over and over as the camera locks again on rapid fire. Then I slide my middle finger into the tight little hole there to the middle knuckle.

Pumping forward and back on it, I straighten it and press the remainder into myself smoothly. I pull it out some and then back in two or three times. Then I stop with it poised to plunge in again only to pair it with my index finger, burying them both deep inside. I do this until I hear his camera slow again to individual clicks instead of the automatic fire. I've been throwing my head, my hair acting like little whips, from side to side for minutes now. Straightening one leg and pointing it to the side, makes my manipulation feel even better.

My muscles vibrate as my breasts bound.

Gauging where he is by the sound of the camera, I roll to my back and slide my hand back through my widely spread legs, across my soft testicles under the thin material, and straight up the length of my cock until my fingers are each poised around the very tip, holding it up straight above the elastic of the panties.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," Sonny begins chanting. The camera is locked on automatic again as he continues to chant and move around to the side, back, forward to my fingers as they move down the length of it, then to a point near my knee where the camera looks up my leg, across my exposed dick, across my stomach and breasts, to my grimacing face.

A very fast stop, changes the angle to one looking directly down from the ceiling at me again. I can see his hand zooming the lens in and out as it looks down at me. I point my toes straight down the length of my legs, then bend them up at the waist, then at the knees.

It's impossible! I'm going to come again with only this minor manipulation. I arch my back and thrust my stretched toes straight down the length of my body and shoot.

"Ahhhh," I hear from somewhere as I see the globs of come leaping into the air to fall on my breasts and stomach. Then again and a new series of globules arcs up and back down.

My neck has bent my head so far back that I am looking at Sonny in the mirror at the head of the bed. He's upside down and I momentarily feel completely disoriented before the feeling all crashes together again and sound comes back and the bright light I was seeing dims somewhat. I drop my hand out to my side, as my other has been and listen to the tide roaring through my ears.

Then the chant comes back to me from my side. When I relax my neck and look up at the overhead mirror again, I see myself spread-eagled on the bed, my hair fanned around my face, by breasts and face flushed with the climax, and my dick pulsing above my center.

"Okay. That's it, Sonny," Bill says softly.

Sonny only now stops the chant and looks at his boss. If I had the energy to spare or the presence of mind, I'd duck as he drops the camera on the edge of the bed and launches himself toward my body. His tongue is licking the come off my cock so fast that when I curl my legs around my middle it only serves to trap him. His mouth is fully over my softening tool.

The surprise passing, I lift my hand and pet his thinning hair as he continues to clean the come off my body. Bill doesn't say anything, so I just lay there and let him lick up my stomach, between my breasts, across my nipples, and down onto my chest for the sticky cream. Finally, his lips wet with it, he kisses me as if he is embarrassed by his rashness and is apologizing.

"Magnificent!" he says from a couple of inches in front of my face before he begins to back away. I pet his hair again and smile.

"Thanks," I whisper for him.

"Any time! I mean any, any, any time at all!" he squeals.

"Sonny?" Bill says. "When can I expect something?"

He remembers his job then and almost leaps off the edge of the bed. "You can have the videotape now, of course." As if to make it immediately true, he moves to one of the machines and ejects the large cartridge, offering it to Bill. "I should be able to have contact sheets in an hour and a short set in say another two or three."

"No, no, Sonny. Soup your film and get me a set of contacts. Then go on home to your hubby. Tomorrow will be plenty soon for the rough set and I'll have the best ones marked for you before noon. Thursday for finals, okay?"

"Okay? But I can work faster than that for you. I've got my heart in this one, sir!" he smiles.

"I saw that," Bill smiles back at him. Sonny immediately begins unloading the cartridges and putting them in a large box.

Bill looks down at me from the side of the bed. "You must be exhausted," he says.

"No, I'm fine," I say in spite of the wonderful logy feeling that fills my body.

"Good. Then, this time, use the girls' room. It's set up a little better for ladies than the men's. Take a shower or, if you want, a nice long bath. Then throw something in there on and come upstairs. I'll see you then." I look at my watch and see that it's only 10 and nod. It feels like I've been doing this for a lot longer.

Bill turns and walks out the door. I start to get up and see Sonny pressing automatic rewind buttons all over the room. He sees me both alone and watching him, smiles, and comes back to the side of the bed.

"Hey, listen," he says. "I'm sorry about what I did. I just ... you know ... I couldn't ..."

"It's all right," I smile. "I liked it."

"Some straight guys find it real disgusting," he said with a funny grin in imitation of his perception.

"I'm bi, Sonny. It's really all right."

"Really? You're bi? But I thought you must be pretty straight from the story you were telling."

"More straight, I guess. But not altogether."

He looks down at me laying there, spread out, my dick totally soft now and being held firmly to my stomach by the elastic of the panties. They are really "very" small.

"God," he moans. "I even love your tits. And I'm not even a little bit straight."

I laugh. "Then you wouldn't mind too much helping me up like the big macho guy you are." Now he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"Not at all. Not at all." He holds his hand out to me and then gives me support while I pull myself into a seated position. He doesn't let go as I slide my ass across the bed to the edge, where my feet can slide off and touch down. He holds on strongly enough to pull me to my feet. Barefoot, we're exactly the same height.

"Oh, Sonny," I say, putting my arms around his neck loosely and letting his hands fall to my waist on both sides. "That was really a lot of fun. I'll remember it forever."

"Me, too," he whispers softly. Impulsively, I lean forward into his arms until my breasts are pressed into his sports shirt solidly. My mouth covers his as my arms tighten around his neck. I let my tongue delve deep into his mouth and he moans from the bottom of his soul.

Then he pushes me away. "You've got a shower to take and I've got to get this film souped. Then," he gulps, "I've got to get some sleep so I can work my cute little ass off for the next three or four days." He stops with his eyes glistening. "But if you have any time from Friday night to the end of my worthless life, I'll be there to kiss you, play with your tits, suck your cock, stick my tongue up your ass, fuck you, be your butt fuck, or anything else you can think of. Okay?"

"You got a sometime date, Sonny," I smile.

"And I don't care if my hubby kicks my ass for a month for doing it either." He slides away from me and returns to the camera backs to pull the film. "Hey, at least I'm going to get to look at every inch of your beautiful body every minute of the rest of this week. And I hope a bunch of weeks after that, too."

I cross the big room to the bathrooms and push into the girls' room. Bill's right. It's gorgeous.

This room is set up completely different. There are three stalls with toilet and bidet sitting side by side. There's a huge mirror with indirect natural lighting from both above and below. In one corner there's a trio of floor to ceiling mirrors that somehow allow you to look at yourself straight on, from the side and from behind and slightly to one side.

It was quite an experience in the near nude.

While just turning my head, I can look at the tiny panties from all angles and see just the way they hold my dick within them and between my ass cheeks. I can also see my very good chest from the front and both sides. My tits are very close to perfect, I think. I can also see my face and hair from either side, the back and straight on. My nose is a little big and my lipstick is smeared all over the place. But, other than that, it looks very good.

Rather than just lockers, there are three large closets in this room. Looking into them, I can see all kinds of outfits from see-through negligee to fur coats. One of the coats is as soft as cat fur with the fur on both the inside and outside.

There are drawers full of underwear and stockings. One closet is filled with shoe trees, each shelf marked with a different size. All the heels are very high.

On the far wall is a rather wide shower stall with a single glass door in the middle. It looks like there are several shower nozzles. Beside it is a large bathtub with two sculptured seats in it side by side facing opposite directions. There are amiable nozzles along the bottom and all sides for a Jacuzzi. It was tempting for a moment. But I decide to do the shower.

I pull the panties down and off my legs. Then I find a washrag, towel, and scented soap. The spray of the shower, from three different ways at once, makes me feel as if I am going to be drowned though they are centered on a point about bellybutton high. Standing in the center, they spray my chest and my ass. Moving back, they spray my shoulders and between my legs. There's a 10-button pad on the wall.

When I press "1" the sprays are needle sharp and tiny. "2" makes them broader. "3" is like a gentle waterfall. "4" shuts off two of the nozzles, "5" shuts off just one, and "6" restores the three nozzles. "7" produces a slow and gentle pulsing while "8" and "9" make it increasingly fast. "0" shuts all the nozzles off, I assume to allow you to soap up. I do that now that it's off. Rubbing the fragrant soap into a slightly oily lather in the washrag, I rub it over my shoulders. It tingles on my skin, something I haven't felt before.

I rub the textured cloth under my arms and down them then across my breasts. This soap produces an inordinate amount of lather that tingles and stands in billows on my hardened nipples. I try to reach my back with one hand and then the other, doing a pretty good job. Then I lather the areas between my legs in front and in back.

The sensitive skin of my ass and the head of my dick tingle outrageously to the thick foam. It feels good on my legs and feet, too. The tingling, though, makes me go back and continue the rubbing with the rougher washcloth, paying particular attention to my dick, ass, and tits. Finally, I use the washcloth on my face and neck before setting the soap and cloth down blindly.

Reaching out, I push a button on the middle row and feel my body hit from all three sides by the soft spray. I lean forward and wash the soap out of my eyes and mouth before pressing the "2" button and the "9" button. The rapid pulsation of the three moderately hard streams of hot water quickly wash off the soap and stimulate my skin. For just a few seconds, I press the "1" button to feel the enervating needle streams of pulsating water all over my body.

I press the "0" button before turning the water faucets back off. My hair is only barely wet.

Stepping back out of the stall, I move to the mirror. I look pretty plain without makeup but the rosy color of my nipples almost makes up for the lack.

There's a button beside the mirror that says dryer. I push it. An infrared heat lamp comes on above my head a few seconds before a hot wind starts blowing from all sides. I find the nozzles and lean my hair toward one of them while the others blow across my naked skin from several directions including between my legs. The towel helps the drying process along but, I can see, would not really be necessary.

I push the button again and feel the cool air return around me. A drawer at the side of the sink includes all sorts of makeup, lipstick, nail polish, and perfume. I put perfume on several spots of my body then apply mascara, eyebrow pencil and just a little eye shadow. Then I renew my lipstick with good results. I have a face again. A hairbrush, along with all sorts of combs, curlers, and curling irons, lets me touch up my hair.

I move to the underwear drawers. There seems to be all varieties of panties, bras, and stockings in the drawer but, in fact, all of the panties are french cut, very small at the middle, and sheer. All the bras are sheer and lacy. All the stockings are thigh highs, clinging around each leg seductively. I wasn't wearing a bra before so I don't get one now. I have a black dress I realize is in the other room but choose a pair of baby blue lace panties that do almost nothing toward holding me. I chose a pair of sheer, flesh-tone stockings and sit on a comfortable lounge chair to put them on.

In the shoe cupboard, I pick a pair of blue spike heels in my size. My dress is probably a mess from earlier so I look through the outfits. I think about a blouse and skirt but decide not. Then I look at a little jumpsuit that's sort of appealing and decide against it. Then I look at the dresses and don't see anything I'm really excited about either. There is one long, slinky looking sheath dress that looks kind of sexy but it's blue color and my shoes clash.

I decide to try on the fur coat I saw earlier. Just try it on before I put it back and pick out something to wear.

I get it and slip it over my arms and shoulders, crossing it over in the middle and tying the fur sash connected to the sides. The top, for some reason, sits around my neck but opens onto my upper shoulders, the vee of the opening falling down between my breasts. The bottom of it comes to the top of my knees but, when I walk across the room I see that it is lightweight enough that it opens at the bottom and even blows back along the sides of my thighs.

The feeling inside the fur, the softness rubbing all over my still tingling skin, is wonderful -- particularly when I walk. Well, I think, I'll wear it until I check out my own dress. I'll wear it if it isn't stained. If it is, I'll come back and choose something different.

I can walk in these spike heels, I'm happy to see, even if they do make me walk with a very pronounced swing to my ass. I look in the three-way mirror and smile. I look fabulous from any direction, my freshly dried hair billowing around my face and the white fur surrounding me.

I push open the door of the bathroom and walk to my dress. When I look at it, I see the obvious white spots of my come on the front of it where they've dried. I can't wear that now to talk to Barnes. I'll have to pick out something else. I start to but decide instead that this is good. We'll talk and then I can come back down here and put on my own clothes and shoes to go home. Since we have an appointment in the morning, he won't want to talk for more than a few minutes anyway. Probably want to ask me if I'm all right, if I enjoyed myself, and that sort of thing, before I leave.

Sonny is nowhere in sight. Probably in the darkroom with his pictures.

I walk out the door and up the stairs, watching my stocking covered legs peeking out from between the sides of the coat with each step up. At the mirror outside his door, I can see the rise of my breasts in the opening of the coat. I grin at myself before knocking on the door.

I hear it click open and push it the rest of the way open to walk into the apartment. "Come in," he says.

He's sitting on the same cushion of the same couch I sat on earlier. But a footstool sits in front of the seat. Bill is wearing an expensive maroon smoking jacket open at the neck onto his hairy upper chest. Below it, he wears a silky pajama bottom and slippers. Looking a lot like Hugh Hefner at home, he's smoking a sweet smelling pipe. But I really only notice this out of the corner of my eye.

There is a 10 foot square screen covering most of the wall opposite him with the video of my film debut showing on it. The image of my naked breasts over the black material of my dress heave about 3 feet tall to compete with my face that is about 5 feet away. My fingers pull my nipples on the screen and I cross my arms under them over the softness of the fur. This is truly embarrassing.

As my fingers on the screen move down my body to my skirt and, in a few moments, reveal my hard dick along with my leaping breasts and panting mouth, I blush from nose to toes.

"What do you think?" he says softly. "Fantastic. Right?"

"Embarrassing," I answer.

"Why embarrassing?" he asks without looking at me. "You're naturally one of the sexiest people I've ever seen. And you play to the cameras so well, you could almost produce a finished film just from editing the tapes together for the best camera angles. I could have the sound over- dubbed in about six hours and sell this all over the world.

"In fact," he says. "That's just about what I'm going to do. Really, I intended it to be a titillating kind of amateur hour with some effort. About like a home video. But just look at this!"

I watch my legs raise and spread just before my come sprays up onto my face then in globs on my breasts and finally all over the front of the black dress. Even in the folds of frilly material of the skirt. I hadn't seen that or cleaned it.

After several minutes, the image finally goes black along with most of the room. A single small table lamp is on to his right.

He picks up another tape from the table where the lamp is and slides it into a player. After a short leader, I watch myself moving onto the soft white bed in my sexy nightgown. Bill sips at a beer but doesn't take his eyes off the huge projected image.

"Please, come sit down here beside me," he says. I move down into the pit and sit down. Watching the screen from here, it fills your forward vision completely. It's like sitting about four rows back in a movie theater. I'll bet watching "2001" or one of those action films on this is really something.

"Quite a setup," I say softly.

"Yes. Projection TV. The sound's every bit as good. Surround sound. But, of course, we didn't have a mike on you. You'll have to do the sound-overs another time." He's still staring at the screen that shows me, bigger than life, rubbing my naked breasts and writhing around.

The fur opens across my legs when I'm sitting down. I cross them and shift a little to throw one side of the coat back over them. I'm glad I wore the coat since the air conditioning must make it about 60 degrees in here. I sit back on the couch with my arms crossed and watch.

Even knowing, pretty well, everything that is going to happen on the screen, I'm finding myself getting excited by the action. The camera occasionally zooms in and then back out but doesn't really change angle very much. Then I drop out of the frame altogether before the camera moves down to me rolling on the bed with my hand still in my thin panties.

It's just a very sexy woman enjoying playing with herself now. Very sexy. I realize that I'm doing that thing with the calf of my upper leg again, rubbing it up and down on my other thigh. I wonder where I learned that? The action makes the coat gap open again though and I recross my legs away from Bill and recover them from the other side.

"God, look at that!" he sighs. "You have me completely convinced that you are finger fucking yourself right there. Just magnificent!"

I watch, smiling to myself. I watch the image roll over on her front and her large breasts dangle with the gravitational pull. Then, though this isn't the best angle for it, she puts her finger into her ass and wiggles around on it. Her face shows nothing but wanton ecstasy as she fucks herself in the ass with one and then two fingers.

I watch, chewing nervously on my lip and the tip of my finger, as I watch her roll back over onto her back to finger fuck herself some more. Her legs are sexily everywhere, pointing and vibrating as if she's on the verge of an orgasm.

"Shit! Look at that!" he moans as the woman on the screen suddenly reveals the hard cock in her hand and begins to move up it, her polished nails touching the tip for a minute. I hear a sign from behind me and turn around to see Sonny standing a few feet back with a handful of pictures and a rapt look on his face as he watches the screen.

"Ah! Yes!" Bill says, clapping his hands merrily as the woman on the screen strokes the cock and it spurts huge gobs and strings of come onto her stomach, her chest, and into her hair and face. She licks a big glob off her lips and cheek before releasing the cock and laying back, relaxed and spread-eagled on the bed.

He laughs uproariously as Sonny leaps onto the bed to suck up the still hard cock and begins lapping up the come all over the beautiful body. I smile watching it and with the memory of it as well. I turn and look at Sonny and his eyes flicker down to mine as he blushes vividly enough to be easily seen in the low light. He gulps roughly.

The tape ends after a few more minutes.

"Fantastic!" Bill says, finally turning to look at me. I'm still blushing in embarrassment. His mouth goes slack for just a split second before his eyes flick down across the coat to my legs and then rapidly back to my face. "Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I've been ignoring you for your video."

"That's all right," I mumble. Noticing my legs sticking out of the coat again, I recover them.

"My God, what made you pick that fur? It's so hot tonight that I turned on the air conditioner and stripped down to nothing."

"After the shower, it really feels pretty nice," I say. I cuddle my shoulders into it now.

"Well, you ought to be warmed up by now. Particularly with that movie. You can take it off now," he says flatly. I blush again and my mouth drops open. I never thought of that. "Is something wrong?" he asks as he sees my reaction.

"Oh, fuck!" Sonny says behind me. "She didn't put anything on under it! Shit! I'll just bet!"

Bill looks at me again and blushes brightly himself.

I finally work up a little grin. "True," I say with a shrug.

"Sonny! My God, what have we got on our hands? Amy is easily the most naturally sexy being I've ever seen or even heard of!" Now I'm really blushing. "You didn't even think about that being sexy as hell, did you?"

I nod. "Yes. I did. I wanted to feel the fur on the inside of it against me. I thought that would be sexy."

"Sexy for you! You didn't even think about what it would do to a man!" I hadn't. And at the time I was saying about the fur on the inside feeling good, I'd rolled open the collar. As I followed his eyes, I knew I'd screwed up again. Rolling the collar showed a great deal of my left breast. I clutched it back to me.

"Oh, Sonny," he moans. "This is unbelievable. Next she's going to want to talk business. Just like nothing ever happened."

I swallowed because that's what I had been about to do. I decided whatever else, I wouldn't do that now.

"My mouth's dry, Bill," I squeak out. "Could I have a beer?"

"Jesus Christ! Where am I? Of course you can," he leaps up from the couch. "Is there something else you'd prefer? A white wine? Champagne? Anything?"

"No. Just a beer, thanks."

In seconds, he's back, handing me a tall Pilsner glass of sparkling beer and moving back beside me on the couch. "Sonny. Come here and sit down. Let's take a look at the stills."

For the next fifteen minutes, we form a tableau. Sonny and Bill hover over the contact sheets with the now slightly raised light level from some indirect sources around the room.

"Good! Yes," Bill says.

"I like this one and this," Sonny says.

"Yeah. And this."

I sip the beer and pick up the contact sheets as they lay them between Bill and I on the couch. They are the best angles that could have been shot from the videos I'd seen much of before. In the black dress, there is a little hesitancy in the angles and the layout of the photos. This disappears with the other outfit and after Sonny saw that I am a man.

"Great. Great," Bill's saying. Sonny hovers close to him discussing the angles and shots.

"The set cameras will have better angles of this shot."

"Yeah. We could never repeat this," he sighs. "Fantastic!"

My mind wanders off somewhere else as I sip at the beer and look at the pictures. I'm only paying a little attention as they finish. The beer glass is poised at my lips and my head bent back a little to drink.

"Amy, these are ..." he almost screams near me. It takes me by surprise and I bauble the glass. Cold beer pours down my chin and splashes onto my naked chest. There's enough, though really only a teaspoonful probably, that it channels down and flows between my breasts.

Unthinking, I recover my hold of the glass, wipe my chin with my palm and then chase the beer downward with my fingers as if to stop it. The action serves to open the front of the coat. I realize what I've done, as I hear both Sonny and Bill moan loudly.

I sheepishly look up at them with my hand holding one breast and purposefully holding the coat away from the other. I noticed, before I looked up at them, that my nipple is hard. Since that's where they are both looking, I imagine it still is. I slowly cover up again and blush.

Again Bill breaks into uproarious laughter, throwing his head back and guffawing loudly. Sonny in a kind of titter, joins him in laughing.

"Unbelievable," he says through his laughing sobs for breath. "Unbelievable." Every time he looks at me for the next several minutes, he laughs again and points down at my chest where I clutch the coat. I can laugh with him, but I really don't think it's this funny.

"I'm sorry," he finally says as he regains control and wipes the tears out of his eyes. "It's just that you do these things so easily. So automatically that you don't even see how sexy they are."

He leans toward me and puts his hand on my exposed knee. "If I had written something like that into a script, there is no woman in the world who could have acted the scene. But you could. You'd just do it naturally. Hell, I could give you a beer any day of the week, startle you, and you'd do something exactly like that every time."

"Yeah, probably true," I smile. "Am I just naive about being a woman or what is it?"

"I don't know but you ought to bottle it. Whatever it is. It's wonderful."

"Mostly embarrassing."

"Oh, don't let it be. Just, for God's sake, don't lose it or I'll kill you."

Finally, he turns to Sonny, who's still shaking his head, and tells him the pictures are great and to go home and get some sleep so he can hit the blowups tomorrow morning. Sonny comes past me, leans down, and kisses me on the cheek chastely.

"Good night, sweetheart. I'm just going to love working with you." He walks toward the door. "How could I not? You're sexy, stacked, and male. And you're probably going to make me famous if I can't get you to make me preggers."

Bill laughs again before the door closes behind Sonny.

"Oh, my love. You've made my day. Hell, my month and probably my year, for that matter. Hell, I'm going to make so much from these two videos, that took all of about two hours to make, that you're going to wish you had a percentage instead of a measly 100 grand. You could have retired to your yacht on the proceeds at 10 percent."

"Well, maybe we could talk about my percentage for the domestic sales," I say with a grin, leaning toward him, my elbows on my knees. This time I know the top of the coat comes open before he grins and stops trying not to look.

"Yeah," he says. "I think we'll have to do that. The negotiations are going to be long and hard."

"Well I hope so," I giggle before he realizes just what he said and blushes.

We laugh and talk together for quite a while as I finish my beer. Then it's time to go home and get some sleep.

"Do you mind if I wear the coat home tonight and bring it back in the morning for our appointment?"

"No. I mean, just the thought of you on the streets of the city with nothing on but a fur, excites me more than you can believe. But don't bring it back tomorrow. Another time you can wear it with the same outfit under it. In any case, it's yours."

"Actually, you know I'm really not naked under the coat. I did put on a pair of panties." I showed him and he went white.

"God. That's even worse. Lace panties and stockings."

Chapter 10

Linda WOKE ME for work and I can only lie here thinking about last night. The pictures, the contracts, the fur coat, and, not least, my reception at home. When I'd had time to think about what I'd accomplished, during my drive home, I found that I'd never been so excited in my life.

I thought about the money, though that wasn't all that important. Then I thought about my reception by the two men of such vastly different persuasions. I'd been able to excite an avowed homosexual and a very virile heterosexual with almost the same actions, even if different parts of those actions excited each. I'd gotten what sounded like the most fantastic opportunity for myself I'd ever gotten. A star of both some porn films -- something I'd always thought I'd like to do -- and the documentary which would change my body and, ultimately, my entire life.

Then there was the promise of the contracts for the company. Bernice wouldn't believe it. And for me it was more important to know that I'd tried hard to do something and I'd succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.

Even the ride home had been tremendously satisfying. Stopped at a stoplight, a city bus had pulled up next to me and the driver and three rows of men behind him had gone insane looking at my legs, showing through the opening of the coat. Only a few blocks further on, two men in a pickup truck had done the same thing.

Linda had been mad at me when I got home, leaving in a sexy outfit and coming back in a fur coat and panties. She was sure I'd gotten laid, though I told her differently immediately, and was saying things about having to restart my training because I was just doing the same things again.

So I spent the next half hour telling her every second of what happened to me during the night. I thought she might react negatively to the surgery but she was enthusiastic about it instead. She was really excited about the contracts and the money.

I took a few minutes to call Bernice and, finally, to tell her that I would be in after my appointment with Barnes. She was ecstatic about the contracts, of course, and promised to have the legal department ready to review them as soon as I brought them in. She started talking about staffing up for the projects before I hung up.

Maybe the best affect of the evening was when Linda started rubbing the coat I still wore. Before we went to bed, she stripped and together we rolled into the fur to make long, passionate love. I didn't take it all the way off until we went to bed, still wearing the stockings.

I get up rested and take a quick shower before putting on makeup and looking for something to wear. Though it's pretty daring, I decide to wear the blue crepe dress. I wear a blue pair of panties, the sheer hip hugging pantyhose, and white shoes. The top doesn't allow a bra.

Linda is already ready for work in a short skirt and sweater combination that is gorgeous. She likes the crepe on me, too. I drink a cup of coffee while Linda eats breakfast and then we go our separate ways, mine back to Barnes' building.

When I walk through the lobby to the guard station, the guard smiles and actually straightens when he sees me. The same one as yesterday morning.

"Good morning, miss," he says. "Mr. Barnes left word to send you directly up to his apartment." Picking up a keyring from the desk, he leads me to a locked elevator at the back of the elevator corridor. There's only one button on the control panel. After I nod and smile my thanks, I push the button.

The door opens onto a room I haven't seen before. Bill Barnes smiles, raises from the chair behind a huge desk, and meets me in the center of the large room. He takes both my hands and holds my arms out straight from my body.

"You look marvelous," he says as he lets his eyes inspect me from top to bottom. "Marvelous." He turns back to the room. "Welcome to my inner sanctum." The wall behind the desk is entirely glass, as is the wall to my right. I can see a balcony beyond the wall to the right. The left wall is dark, rough wood covered with several obviously expensive paintings. A black leather couch and three chairs are arranged around a low coffee table near this wall.

He leads me toward the balcony, opens a sliding glass door, and walks to a glass topped table with two white wrought iron chairs with bright yellow and red cushions on them. He holds the chair for me and makes a motion to someone behind me.

I young man in a white coat pours coffee for both of us before moving away behind me.

"Are you ready for breakfast, Amy?" I smile and nod. He nods to the man and in a few minutes, he's back with very hot plates of eggs, hash brown potatoes, and silky light pancakes. We eat in silence until I feel like I'm about to burst and sit back to look around myself.

It's a beautiful view from up here, the sky blue and clear this morning. We're high enough over the city to be completely free of the pollution though you can see the haze down and toward the horizon. The tallest buildings of the city are behind this building, allowing an almost unobstructed view out to the countryside in the distance.

The light breeze rustles my hair and the light, loose material of my dress. When I look back at him, he's leaning on his crossed arms and looking down through the glass top at my legs. I blush under his scrutiny. He looks at my eyes and smiles broadly.

"It's going to be a long time before I forget last night," he says. "I guess I'm still going through a kind of afterglow." I chuckle. "But, --" he says finally, sliding his chair back and putting his napkin on the table, "-- I guess we have some work to do. Let's get to it, okay?"

"Yes," I agree. "It's so nice out here, I could spend the day."

"That's one of the disadvantages of having a beautiful place to work." I smile and let him lead me back into the huge office and to the leather couch.

As I sit down, I think that this is actually too comfortable. Its soft, cool, skin-like surface shapes to the back of my legs as I cross them. He pours us each cups of coffee from a silver carafe. The cups are cheap plastic insulated cups. He sees that I notice.

"They're not particular fancy but they serve the purpose better than china. They keep the coffee hot." I nod. Totally practical. Certainly the coffee is hot, burning my tongue. "Ah, to business," he sighs.

"I had the contracts prepared yesterday for your company. Here is the publicized contract with the necessary modifications to include all the company information services and to study the ties with the outside." He sets the blue bound contract on the table between us. "This is the contract for the more private services your company is to provide for us. I hope it covers everything."

I scan it as I sip the hot coffee and see that it covers everything I can think of. I nod.

"It actually covers some areas you're not familiar with yet but I'll take you down to see them in a few minutes." Again I nod. "This morning I left instructions for the other contracts -- the performance contract for the documentary, the one for the other work during the next six months, and a continuing contract for after your surgery. We'll go down and pick them up in a bit. Of course, you'll want to discuss these contracts with your attorney. I asked them to ensure there is no requirement for your completing the surgery if that is your choice."

"You seem to have taken care of everything."

He feigns a little discomfort and says, "I also had a contract written up for the domestic sale of your videos. Forty percent of net."

"We'll change that to fifty percent of net, of course," I say with a smile. He laughs.

"You make your changes and we'll negotiate for a signature. But since you already gave away the foreign rights, I can see you getting your way with that." Then he smiles again and picks up another piece of paper. "And this is yours now."

I look at it and see it is a company check for $100,000. I sigh. That's a lot of money for one evening's work.

"The tapes have been turned over to the editors and writers. The writers will write dialog for it that will allow synchronization with your lip movements, though it won't be what we were really talking about, of course. The editors will put the tapes together for the best angles and that sort of thing. When they're done, we'll have another choice. If you want, you can do the voice- overs from the script. Of course, with approval on what you're saying. Or we can bring one of the 9-7-6 operators up to do the voice-overs."

I must have a blank look on my face.

"The 9-7-6 operators do this sort of thing all the time for the customers who call in to talk. You know, the hot chat lines you see advertised in the magazines?" I do now and smile. "Are we okay so far?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I just have one question." He nods. "How could you have had the company's contracts prepared yesterday afternoon when you and I hadn't even talked yet?"

"We hadn't talked," he says. "But I already knew I wanted your company to do the work. Thanks to you."

"I still don't understand."

"Yesterday morning?" I nod. "I watched it all. Your tour, your suggestions, everything."

"How did you do that?"

"Oh. This building is honeycombed with cameras. I can see anyplace I want to."

"Really? That's a little disconcerting."

"Actually, it's a lot disconcerting. A tremendous invasion of privacy." I smile.

"I guess I was really thinking something like that."

"I thought you might be. And you're right. My only defense is that no one knows about it but the company that installed the cameras. And I take great pains not to abuse the system."

"But you know which secretaries are giving their bosses blow jobs and which bosses are sleeping on the job. Right?"

"True. But I never use what I learn against them. Instead, I wait for the peoples' supervisors to bring me things they think are problems. For instance, a few weeks ago I heard that one of the assholes in finance was requiring his secretary to perform ... services for him. Sex discrimination. It was very easy for me to confirm the situation.

"I want to tell you right now that this organization is no democracy. What I say, happens. I had a talk with him and, by the time we were finished, he offered his resignation. I accepted it. Then I promoted his secretary to take his place. She had been doing the vast majority of his work for a year anyway. Everyone was happy. Well, with the exception of the asshole. He was just gone. And maybe he won't do the same thing some place else."

"You're competent to decide when you are abusing your power?" I ask.

"I think so. Since you're the only other person, besides the owner of the company that installed the system, that knows about it, you're appointed to tell me if that's true. I'll take your word for it. Snoop around and find out what people think of my management style. After all, that's within the purview of your contract. All right?"

"If you want. But what if I find that you're not doing as well as you think?"

"You'll tell me or you'll be in default to your contract."

"Fair enough."

"To return to what brought this topic up, I watched you and Phil on your tour yesterday morning. Beginning to end."

"What about last night? After you went upstairs? Did you tune me and Sonny in then?"

"Yes. I did. I was ... no, I am fascinated by you. You were very sweet to Sonny and I appreciate it. You were also extremely sexy in the shower."

"In the shower, too?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be a man if I hadn't done that, now would I?" I can't help but laugh in spite of being a little peeved.

"I guess I should be flattered."

"Oh, yes. I'm rarely that interested in a woman. And I consider you more woman than any I've met."

"I don't really qualify," I note.

"Womanhood apparently is a state of mind and not, necessarily, of physiology." We laugh together then. He finishes his coffee and stands. Holding out his hand to me he says, "C'mon. Let's go look at my secrets and then we'll go down to legal for the rest of those contracts."

"Before we go, could I see how you look at all those cameras?"

"Sure." He leads me to his desk and moves a section to the side. A TV screen is angled under the glass of the desktop. Pushing buttons on a large pushbutton panel, he looks into rooms and offices. The panel is huge.

"How many cameras?" I ask.

"About twelve hundred."

"With a button for each?" He nods. "Does it strike you that a 10 button panel would serve the same purpose?"

"Ah, no. It hadn't. But, now that you mention it, it would, wouldn't it?"

"I can arrange for it to be installed tomorrow." He just smiles.

"There's one down in my apartment, too. Replace them both."

"Right. And, with a logical order to the cameras, you could have up and down arrow keys as well. Maybe put the whole system on the computer so you could call up each camera by name, number, or from a graphic."

"Do it." I grin at him.

"We'll need a new contract." He punches some of the buttons until he sees a man in an office reading a legal magazine. He dials a number on the telephone on the desk and we watch the man answer it on the screen. He gives him the details of the contract and we watch as the man pulls out a yellow legal pad and begins writing. He nods.

"It'll be ready in an hour or so. Grisham is really very good."

During the next hour, he leads me through floors of studios similar to the one we used last night, sound studios, more offices full of script writers and editors, through all parts of a video and film editing shop that is about 20 years outdated. One floor houses a second massive computer with banks of modems. This, too, is outdated and inefficient.

Finally, we go onto the legal floor I am familiar with and collect the contracts. They join the others in my briefcase.

He rides down to the lobby with me and out the front door onto the sidewalk. He turns me toward him, his hands on my upper arms. Very gently, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips.

"You are a very unusual woman," he says. "Since I'm a very unusual man, we have to be friends." He hesitates. "At least friends."

"You are very unusual. And we are already friends."

"I'm glad. Now. Would you have dinner with me tonight?"

"If you'd like."

"Will Linda be mad?" I didn't know he even knew about Linda.

"No. She'll understand."

"And if you stay the night?" I only look at him, a smile forming on my face. His doesn't change.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Bill. But if it did, she'd understand."

"I hope she will," he says before he releases me. "Seven o'clock?" I nod.

Bob Humphry is a friend as well as the chief attorney for the company. It takes almost two hours with him to explain all the contracts. He takes mine as well as the company's, insisting he'll do them for nothing. Finally, I have to show him the check before he will agree to do it for money.

For the next hour, I fill Bernice in on what's happened for the last two days. All the details including my personal experiences that are really her business only as a good friend. She's happy for my good fortune and agrees with me that it really is good fortune.

Finally, we call the whole group into her office and fill them in on the company's new contracts. I share all of my observations with them, except for the camera system. I didn't even share that with Bernice.

I went back to my office and called Sam Maxwell, my electronics expert friend, and told him about the problem at Barnes' office. He said he could take care of it in an afternoon. I told him to plan a day for each of the panels. He agreed but thought it could be done faster. He'd do both the panels and the computer connections.

I knew I could trust Sam because he'd done some covert things for the company and me before.

And then I went home.

Again, I took time to tell Linda about everything that happened during the day, including Bill's invitation for dinner and his statement about staying the night. I told her I didn't think that was likely but asked what her feelings were. She said it was all right but that she wanted to know everything when I had time.

Again, I showered and did makeup and hair before slipping into the red dress, red pantyhose (without any real need for panties), and the red shoes. It was really something to be this encased in tight material. It felt good and it looked good.

Linda nodded her approval of my clothes and kissed me on the way out before I drove back to Barnes' building. The guard, the one from the night before, just pointed to the elevators and smiled.

Again I am on the floor with the studio and walk up the long flight of stairs to Bill's apartment. He greets me at the door with a smile. He's wearing a different smoking jacket, this time with a cravat, and expensive pants and shoes. He leads me past the seating pit and into a formal dining room with a chandelier. The table has two lighted candles on long candlesticks. He turns off the chandelier before he sits down next to me on the end of the table.

The young man from this morning bows slightly to me as he sets down martinis in front of each of us. Then he leaves the room.

Bill compliments me on my looks and the red dress then toasts our association. As I drink that drink and another that appears almost by magic, I tell him about the reactions at the office and their plans to begin the project at the beginning of next week. I tell him they'll do a creditable job even in the interim while they look for some more good people to complete it. He agrees.

The young man comes back with salads, soups, and then a wonderful sliced veal dish covered with a french wine and cream sauce full of mushrooms. He serves wine with the dinner and it seems to accent it perfectly. Dessert is a chocolate mousse so rich it makes your teeth hurt.

I sit back, stuffed again, and enjoy the orangish flavor of the Grand Marnier served afterwards.

"Wonderful, Bill," I sigh.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it. I'm glad you enjoyed it, too."

"What a beautiful two days, Bill," I say with a smile, putting my hand on the back of his where it lays on the table. "Rich, famous, successful ... happy. All because of you."

"And incredibly sexy," he says. He looks up and down my body, or what he can see of it above the tabletop. His eyes devour my body and I know that my hard nipples are pressing hard at the inside of the tight red dress.

"Is that what will make it perfect for you, Bill? To have me?"

He nods once, looking at the table. "Maybe. But ..." he stops. "While I know everything about you, you know nothing at all about me."

"You can't think that my company is that silly," I say. "We know a great deal about you."

"Really? I suppose you know some."

"Most, maybe. We know your approximate worth. We knew enough to enquire about you more quiet business interests."

"Yes. But you really don't know anything about me personally, do you?"

"We know you aren't married. Never have been. Where you went to school. That you got your start from your father about 15 years ago when he made you the head of finance. And that you replaced him when he retired eight years ago."

"That's some of it. How many women have I had in the last year?"

"Ah. I don't know."

"No, I didn't think you would. The answer is none, by the way."

"None? With all your business interests? The films. Video. The 9-7-6 operators. Secretaries. Even debutantes around town."

"None."

"Why? It can't be that you haven't been approached."

"No, not that."

"I told you this morning that you are a very unusual woman. Remember?"

"And you are a very unusual man. I remember."

"That's true. You don't realize how unusual."

"I'm confused. Please tell me what's on your mind, Bill. Please."

He takes a very deep breath. "Do you know what a hermaphrodite is, Amy?"

"Yes. Someone with two sets of genitalia. Both a man and woman."

"Hermaphrodites are generally what the medical community call unsuccessful at gender identification. They have poorly defined genitalia. Usually, one is quite prominent with a vestige of the other. In ancient times, when a hermaphrodite child was allowed to live after birth, the problem was unresolvable. The person lived with a penis and a partially formed vagina or vice versa. Generally they were shunned or, in the case of ancient Rome, venerated as signs from the Gods.

"In more modern times, hermaphrodites are surgically altered to the predominant gender. The partially formed vagina is sewed up, for instance. Or the partially formed penis is removed. There is only one case when that isn't true. It is in what doctors sometimes call undefined hermaphrodism. No one gender is dominant.

"Generally, an undefined hermaphrodite is allowed to wait until after adolescence before anything is done and then the person's psychologically preferred gender is retained and then surgery is used to alter the physical situation."

I look at him, rapt. It's a strange topic for conversation, but interesting at any rate. I have a nagging feeling I know why he's talking about it.

"In all times, hermaphrodites have been considered bazaar freaks and, in many times, even put in sideshows or institutions.

"Luckily," he says, looking closely at me for my reaction. "My father was very rich."

"You're a hermaphrodite?" I'm surprised, of course, since he looks so totally masculine. But it doesn't bother me particularly. "Is that what you're getting at?"

"That's it."

"And it's a problem?"

"Of course. There's a lot of confusion in my hormones, for instance. Mood changes and such. But these are mostly controlled by drugs." Again he searches my face for reaction. But I really don't feel any and he's not going to detect anything. "The worst problems are the existence of a penis and a vagina in the same body." Now I react, frowning.

"Why?"

"I don't know? Something, perhaps, that happens in the womb during pregnancy. There are --"

"No, Bill," I stop him. "Not why does it happen. Why is it a problem?"

"Amy!" he says, exasperated. "All I've got to do is show a woman my chest, and she freaks out."

"Let me see," I say, reaching toward him. He nods and unties the waist of the coat, untying the cravat. My hand goes to his chest as he starts to open the smoking jacket. Then he opens it wide. He has small but rather feminine breasts. And the breasts are surmounted by dark areola and the buds of nipples. They are totally disconcerting with that masculine face. When I touch a nipple he jumps.

"They're very sensitive."

"Mine, too," I say with a smile.

"You ought to see the rest," he says as he reties the smoking jacket and sits back in his chair away from me and my probing fingers.

"Tell me about it."

"Okay. I've got a penis. Not particularly notable except maybe that my father didn't believe in circumcision. Maybe a little smaller than average. I don't have testicles or, of course, sperm since sperm is produced by the testes. But I do produce semen.

"Instead of testicles, I have an almost perfectly formed vagina. But I don't have ovaries either. My womb is poorly formed, according to the doctors. Sort of a remnant. My penis is placed a little higher than most men's, as if it started to become a normal clitoris but changed its mind. And I have totally normal labia. My bladder is set up normally for a man. My waist is proportionally smaller than a man's usually is and my hips wider.

"I have hardly any leg hair and feminine knees. I've dressed as a woman several times and passed very easily with just a wig. I don't even have to do anything about my breasts. Many women have small breasts. I just have to take care of my dick. Ah. Well, you understand."

"Yeah, I have that problem, too. So, are you thinking of having some type of surgery? Is that why you are so interested in me and my problems?"

"I don't think so. I'm mostly ..." he hesitates, looking into my eyes. "I mostly just love to see how well you handle your sexuality. How excitingly female you are even though it is not your birth gender."

"You like watching me."

"Yes. And I thought, maybe, you would understand me ..." Again he stops and swallows roughly. "And that you wouldn't think I'm a freak or a monster."

"Now, why in the fuck would anyone think that?" I ask, incredulous. "You're a wonderful person. No one would even suspect about your physical structure and if they did they'd more likely think it interesting. If they were really interested in you, they could see the fantastic possibilities."

"You lost me. Possibilities?"

"Of course. You're the only person I know who could flip a coin to decide whether they were going to be on top or the bottom, if you see what I mean." His spreading grin says he does.

"You are really incredible, you know that?"

"Of course," I say. "You've told me."

Chapter 11

"SO, NOW YOU have a problem," I say.

"A problem I don't know about?"

"No. If you're as perceptive as I think you are, you know all about it. You may have even engineered the problem."

"I guess I don't understand," he says.

"I'll have to tell you then." I look him in the eye. "You've got me so curious, I can't stand it."

"Curious? About me?"

"Damn," I say. "If you didn't know you'd create that, why did you mention it?"

He blushes deeply and looks around as if for some help. "Really. I was only ... well, maybe I was warning you that I'm ... different."

"I can't accept that," I say, knowing I'm putting him on the spot. "I think you either wanted me interested or were being totally ignorant."

"Ignorant!" he says, now incensed.

"Does that mean you weren't trying to get me interested?" He thinks about it.

"Well, maybe there was an element of that. But no."

"Then there must have been an element of ignorance."

"Now wait --"

"You couldn't possibly sit there and look at me, after last night, and think that I could be upset by your differences. I'm as different as any person you're likely to meet anytime soon. Right?"

"No!" he insists. "You're not the least bit different! You're wonderfully feminine and beautiful!"

"Bill!" I say strongly with a question in the exclamation. "I'm a man! Remember?"

"Well, yes, but --"

"But nothing. I have nice tits and I think I dress pretty well. But I'm still a man with tits." I look at him for recognition of what I'm doing. "That's pretty different."

"Yeah, but it's not as different as someone like me."

"I don't know," I say purposefully. "But you really have me interested." I'm smiling at his discomfort.

He's really thinking hard now. "You know, I guess it was a little ignorant. Sort of pointing out your differentness by making a point of mine. And I guess I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't owe me an apology. You owe me an explanation. And I only know one way to get an adequate explanation."

"One way? I guess I don't understand." Again I smile at him and lean closer.

"I've got to see for myself," I whisper.

"See? Oh! I see. Oh!" Now I can't help but laugh at him in his embarrassment. I let him squirm for a minute before I put my hand on the back of his. He stares at it like I'm going to bite him.

"Bill?" He looks up to meet my grin. "Are you going to show me right here?"

"Good grief, Amy! No!"

"Ah. Then you're going to show me inside your office."

"No!"

"Where then?"

"I'm --"

"Don't even say you're not going to show me. Wrong!"

"Maybe sometime --" he begins.

"I'm curious now. I want to see now," I demand.

"But Amy --" he begins again.

"Huh uh," I shake my head vehemently. "Now. And here if you want to. Or somewhere else. But now, for sure."

He sighs heavily, theatrically. Then, finally, his grin spreads across his face. "Okay. I give up."

I lean close to him. "I can't believe you have better legs than I do," I say while stretching one toward him. I can see in the twinkle in his eyes as he stares at it that he's getting into this now.

"It's going to be close," he says. "But I think I have you beat. Just a little."

"This I've got to see!" I grin.

"Okay," he says. "Let's go down to the apartment." He shakes his head in disbelief. "I'll show you my legs."

He holds the chair for me and I follow him through the office and down a stairway. At the bottom, he holds a door that opens into the living room I was in last night. Then he leads down a hallway I didn't see because of its location behind a concealing wall at the side of the living room pit. Down the hallway, there is a bathroom then a pair of very large bedrooms that, I can see, each have living areas, private baths, and walk-in closets. Then he opens a large double door at the end of the hallway onto the biggest bedroom I've ever seen. I think it could only be done in an office building or maybe a warehouse conversion or something like that.

There's another living room pit with still another fireplace. Then a large table with two soft chairs. A normally large room opens to one side of the entry door and, looking into it, I see it has a makeup table at the end and huge closets to either side with multiple doors. He guides me to a second large doorway, again with double doors, which opens onto a bathroom that I could fit most of my house in. There's some exercise equipment in one corner, a sauna, a hot tub, a huge deep sculpted bathtub for two, a shower like the one downstairs, and a pair of sinks along with the toilet and bidet. None of the fixtures are crowded with any of the others.

Turning back into the main room, I can see the far wall is completely filled with gauzy material covered windows looking over the same view as the balcony upstairs. The bed is huge. Undoubtedly big enough that a family of four could sleep in it without ever touching in the night.

"My god! You sleep here alone?"

"Yeah," he says with a grin. "I can sleep over here or over there, close to the edge or right in the middle. Whatever. I can toss and turn all night without a single worry of falling out."

"The only thing you probably have trouble with is catching up to the girl you're with," I say with a grin. Strangely, he reacts entirely differently than I'd expected. He looks embarrassed but not like a guy who's trying not to brag.

"That's an experience I've never had," he says to my amazement.

"What? No one has ever shared this bed with you?" He just shakes his head.

"Actually, I've never shared any bed with someone," he says softly.

"What!!!!" He's blushing all over. I can't believe it.

He just looks at his hands as I stare at him. "Then I think you're overdue, Bill Barnes." I lift his hands and take him to the bedside. With a little difficulty, I crawl up on the edge and pull him onto it with me. "Every bed is better when you share it with someone."

I have a sudden thought. "Bill? Are you a virgin?"

"Well, no. Not legally."

"You mean ... what do you mean?"

"I mean, I broke my hymen when I was young. So I'm not a virgin."

"Have you ever been with anyone?" He shakes his head slowly and turns scarlet.

I find that I'm grinning to myself so hard I can hardly stand it. It's like a little kid's Christmas. I get to open the packages all by myself and I'm first!

I reach out and begin unbuttoning his shirt and he looks into my smiling eyes. I'm sure he sees it there. He just doesn't understand why I'm so pleased. He blushes more with each open button until they are all undone and I pull his shirt out of his pants. Very gently, I push his shirt open by spreading my hands at his shoulders until only his arms hold it up. He's steeling himself not to interfere though this must be one of the most frightening things that's ever happened to him. I let the shirt fall from his shoulders and down his arms until he pulls it the rest of the way off his arms from behind his back.

His shoulders are lightly sloped, more like a woman's than a man's. I can close my eyes a little, not looking at his more masculine face, and see only a woman's body from the chin to his very narrow waist.

His breasts are small, probably no more than an A cup but nicely shaped. The hardened nipples, the size of large peas, are surrounded by that field of darker skin as big as my own. These are not at all masculine but still quite small and delicate for a grown woman, too. When I touch them with fingers and thumbs of each hand, he only watches my fingers.

I let my hands lower down his sloping sides to a fairly small waist. Not the smallest waist I've seen on a woman but easily the smallest I've seen on a man. His stomach is very flat. There's not a hair on chest or stomach though I can see quite a lot under his arms.

My hands go to his belt and he inhales raggedly though, at least, he isn't moving away from me. I undo it, the clasp at the top of his pants, and his zipper. When I push them off his girlish hips, I can see he's wearing a pair of red nylon men's underwear with the hole in the front and wider waistband. There is a very noticeable bulge in the front.

He turns to one side to sit and pull his pants the rest of the way off. I help with them when he gets them to his ankles and pull off his socks at the same time.

"What do you think?" he says as he shows off one leg by lifting it and pointing his toes.

"I agree," I say. "You do have better legs than I do." He does. As a long time watcher of women's legs, I know they are amongst the best shaped I've seen. Just enough soft flesh in the thighs. A nice curve to the calf. Gorgeously tiny ankles. Pretty, dainty feet. And not a hair anywhere.

Now his body looks very much like a young woman's wearing a man's underwear. Only the bulge is out of place.

"You have nice breasts, too," I note for him. I think he's getting into this a little now because he smiles and looks at them rather than blushing and cringing away as he was at the beginning. "Now I want to see the rest." He's back to blushing before he smiles into my eyes and nods.

"Okay. Prepare yourself though. It's like nothing you've ever seen before. I promise you."

When I reach to his sides and put my fingers in the waistband of the underwear, he lifts himself enough for me to pull them down behind. I carefully guide the front of the underwear down until I can see some of his penis.

He's uncircumcised -- something I didn't expect -- but a respectable size. Not the largest I've seen in that way but not the smallest. Perhaps he's 5 or 6 inches long and about an inch through. The pubic hair at the base and above it matches his blond hair and is sparser than I would have expected. There's some other things going on here that I will need to look at more closely but this looks more or less like a teen boy.

I pull the underwear down to his knees and, his knees together, he helps me get them the rest of the way off by bending them and lifting his heels off the bed. I throw them over the side of the bed. When I look back, he looks at me, very nervous indeed. His legs are crossed at the knee, away from me. I can still see the tip of his cock where the head is just peeking out of the surrounding loose skin, a drop of white pre-cum on it. When I look at it with a smile, it jumps on its own away from his stomach.

"Can I see now?" I ask him. "Please?"

"No one except my doctors have seen me there. You'll be the first, Amy," he says in an almost pleading voice. Again I smile, I hope reassuringly. I nod once.

He takes a very deep breath and uncrosses his legs. I move closer to his side at thigh level, looking down at him now. I touch the inside of his thigh and he keeps spreading his legs. Knowing I could see better if I were between his legs, I lift onto my knees and step over one leg, encouraging him to spread his further. And now I can see him.

He has no testicles. Instead there is a congregation of loose skin between his legs and under his hard cock. The loose skin, I see, seems to surround his cock as if it were a very large clitoris. Spread still further, the loose skin finally opens and I can see the puckered opening of a vagina in the folds. There is copious amounts of fluid seeping from it and sticking to the folds of skin, shining in the light pubic hair.

I can't keep from putting my fingers on the loose folds of skin to the sides of the little pucker and opening him wider. He spreads further and I can see the pucker there open and, further between his legs, the additional and tighter pucker of his ass. My index finger finds the opening almost by itself. He stiffens as I push inward with my polished fingernail until the red tip disappears. He rolls his pelvis upward more as my finger continues to probe. Amazing!

"How complete is it?" I ask clinically.

"They say I don't have fallopian tubes or any eggs, of course, but everything else is there. I don't have periods though."

"Can you feel my finger?"

"God yes!" His thigh muscles are vibrating slightly and when I move my finger out and then further back in, he follows it with his pelvis.

"When you come," I begin, "do you ejaculate?"

He only nods with his eyes closed. "Do you masturbate? Like beat off or fuck yourself with something?"

"Yes. Both ways," he sighs. My other hand goes to his dick and peels back the soft surrounding skin from the head. Its mushroom shape comes free, coated in the pre-cum. I can't stand it any more. I lower my mouth to that beautifully shaped little cunt and press my tongue into him. He moans loudly and grabs both handfuls of bed covering. He tastes wonderfully clean and sweet with no spicier flavor at all. I lick his flavor from him and suck it up forcefully.

Then I replace my tongue with two fingers in the tight hole and watch him squirm with the feelings. My mouth lowers now over that slick cock until I feel the head go into my throat. I suck hard and move all the way to the tip and back down to the base again, frigging him with two fingers at the same time.

His entire center is going crazy and his breathing follows his movements. I can feel his climax nearing, his pussy spasming with my movements. Then suddenly I feel him coming deep in my mouth, trying to swallow it as fast as it spurts into my throat. My entire hand is slick with the come flowing out from between his legs. His entire body seems to freeze in a vibrating climax.

Then, as it passes, his hands come to the sides of my face, pulling me up his body to his mouth. I kiss him and let his tongue find the remaining stickiness in my mouth from his climax. He kisses me again and again, squeezing me tightly to him.

Finally, he relaxes and holds me back from him slightly.

"That was wonderful, Amy," he says. "The most wonderful thing anyone ever did for me."

"I'm sure anyone would be willing. God, you're beautiful, Bill." I mean it. As both a man and woman, he's beautiful.

"Thank you, Amy. But I don't think many people would agree. I'd scare --"

"Don't be ridiculous!" I emphasize. "You're a beautiful man and a beautiful woman. You'd be anyone's dream. You're like making love to a young man or a young woman. That's what your body reminds me of. Sort of a teen. I could name a dozen guys who would make love to you as a lovely woman or as a boy, and a dozen women who would make love to you thinking in the same ways."

"You really think so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't." Now I am laying here on the bed next to him and he is sitting up slightly on one elbow looking down at me. His eyes rove down my body and I have a feeling I know what he's thinking. So am I. "Bill? Would you make love to me now?"

"Oh, yes, Amy!" he breathes. "Oh, yes!"

His hand goes to the zipper on my top and undoes it in a motion. I help him pull it over my head and off. He spends a few minutes playing with my nipples until they are as hard as his. My fingers reciprocate. When his mouth covers my breast, sucking it up, his hand goes to the zipper at my waist and, again, I help him get my skirt off.

He rolls me on top of him and puts his hands in the sides of my panties and pantyhose, pushing them to my knees before he can no longer reach them. He turns me back onto my back and pushes them the rest of the way off my feet. His hand rubs between my legs, holding my hardness under his palm. He still sucks hard on my breast before he releases it and looks into my glazed eyes.

"How do you want me to fuck you, Amy? As a man or as a woman?" I grin at him at the ambiguity. I decide this isn't the time to make fun.

"I want you to wrap your tight pussy around me and let me suck on your nipples," I say. He smiles and nods.

"Now I'm really going to lose my virginity," he says. "And when I'm finished doing it that way, I'm going to fuck you as a woman." I only smile. He may be overestimating his stamina.

As he sinks onto my cock, arching his back over me to let his hard nipple rub against my lips, he starts to pump on me. Now I'm not sure he's overestimating. It feels like he could do this all day.

After two hours of variations, I'm sure I was wrong. He has the stamina.

Chapter 12

WE MOVE TOGETHER to the big bathtub and, sitting side by side facing each other, enjoy the powerful blasts of water from the Jacuzzi jets until we feel truly clean. Then we dress, he in a clean pair of slacks and shirt; me in still another dress from his huge closets -- this one a light blue sweater dress that clings to every inch of my body from shoulders to wrists to mid-thigh with a nice pass at waist and breasts that shows everything to advantage.

I spend some time at his makeup table while he quickly combs his wet hair. As I am finishing, I hear him call his secretary and, when I go into the living room, he leads me up to his office. We sit on the big leather couch, giggling at each other's slightest words like teenagers. Everything is now a double entendre with sexual meanings just for the two of us.

Sonny comes in with a huge pile of pictures and a second pile of contact prints that, luckily, he has marked with the ones printed already. I look at the 8 X 10's while Bill looks at the contacts with a magnifying glass. I reject maybe 10 out of the 500 while Bill picks another hundred for printing. They're absolutely beautiful photographs that turn me on as badly as I was when I was making them in the first place. And I thought I'd never be turned on again.

My only consolation is that both Sonny and Bill are sporting considerable bulges in their pants as we get through them.

"Okay, Sonny," Bill says finally. Something besides his earlier comments of "Oh God" and "Beautiful" and "Fantastic." "I want you and some of the graphics people to pick out about 100 pictures from each of the two separate shoots, okay? Then try some progressive display groupings. All right?"

"Sure. No problem." He grins at me. "I get to spend the next two days with you, baby. I'm going to love it." I'm flattered.

As Bill walks him to the door still talking, Sonny turns back and, spur of the moment, says, "I got the greatest job around. Huh?" I only smile back at him.

Bill makes a call to someone in his legal staff and we wait a few minutes for him to arrive. When he walks into the office, he stops for a moment and then comes the rest of the way to us with a big smile on his face. Maxwell Tennenbaum is his name.

"Max, what do you think?" Bill says as he inspects the contracts. The man hasn't taken his eyes off me since he walked into the room.

"I think you are the most startling woman I've had the pleasure to be around," he says, to my surprise. "I knew you would be when I saw these contracts. But I'm still amazed."

"I don't understand," I say.

"Well, look. There's several million dollars worth of work in these contracts. That, in itself, is quite an accomplishment." He's gesturing with one hand in the air like a leaf in a windstorm as he speaks. "But then I get to the contracts for your work here already -- the video release in foreign distribution and the photograph release. The check for those is attached, by the way. Then I see the largest contract I've ever seen offered to an individual for local release of these same products.

"But that didn't do it. I was astounded. Yes. But not really flabbergasted." He's shaking his head. "Now I get to the short term contract for future photography and video work and the longer term work after the six months. I say to myself that this has to be a fantastic woman to get this kind of money, percentages actually, for this work.

"Then, on the bottom of the stack is the contract for the documentary of your sex reassignment surgery." He's looking at me crazily almost. "I find out that one of the most successful bodies doing modeling, of this kind, right now is going to change sex! A gorgeous woman who's going to become a man and fulfill another contract for work as a man! Unbelievable!"

"Oops, Max," Bill smiles. "You screwed up."

"What?" He looks crestfallen. "How? The terms too liberal? I thought they were ... ."

"No, no. I've looked them over and they're exactly what I dictated this morning."

"Then I don't understand," he says, looking from one of us to the other.

"Amy's sex reassignment is FROM a man to a woman." He does about a triple take, starting to say something, stopping, and then trying again.

"You mean ...?" he chokes.

"I'm a man, Max," I say and watch him swallow once, look at my chest, blanch, look at my face, at my legs, at my chest, blanch again, and try to speak through a knot. "Do you have to see to believe?"

"No!" he sputters out. "Of course not! No! But ... Oh, you've permanently shaken my faith in my own perceptions!"

"I know what you mean, Max," Bill says with a laugh. "She's shaken mine as well."

After we talk him down again for a few minutes, Max leaves.

"I've got to take these contracts to the office for our lawyer to look at, Bill."

"Sure. I know." He looks a little sad. "Ah, what do you have planned for later?"

"This evening?" He nods.

"Just going home, I guess. Nothing special that I know of." He brightens a little.

"What about I pick you up about seven. We'll paint the town."

"Well," I begin. "I feel a little bad about leaving Linda by herself for two nights in a row."

"Oh! Well, we'll all go out. Would she like that?"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask, I guess." I stand up. "Do you mind if I use your phone?"

"Of course not."

I call Linda at work and ask if she'd like to go out with us and she enthusiastically agrees. "I've always wanted to go out with a millionaire," she says. "Even if he's really going out with my husband." I ask if seven is okay and she agrees. I tell her I love her and she kisses the phone on her end.

"Yes," I tell Bill with a smile.

"Well, I've got things to do," he says. "For one thing, after this morning, I need a long nap." We grin together with our shared knowledge of each other before I put my arms around his neck and draw him into a long, gentle kiss. His hands range up and down my sides and back until he holds our midsections tightly together for a moment.

"Mmmmm," I moan as he breaks the kiss and pets the front of my hair.

"Oh, you have to get out of here before I really get started again," he pants. "I'd love to fuck you again right now."

"And I'd love for you to do it," I say. He holds me firmly away from him, his hands on my waist.

"Maybe tomorrow," he gasps.

"Okay. It's a date," I say with a smile. He laughs out loud and I love it. "See you at seven," I say as I leave.

I spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the company lawyer and filling Bernice in on the results of my negotiations. Covered in smiles, she started writing down the things she needed to do, starting with beginning a search for several good people to help with the work. As I left for home, she headed for our lawyer's office.

Vic, of course, whistled and made a big scene about my sweater dress and the shapes of my nipples in the front of it. Then he proceeded, as I walked by with a grinning wave, to give a loud critical review of my butt and my legs. We both enjoyed it and, seemingly, the girls in the secretarial pool loved it as they laughed.

After the short drive home, I pull into the driveway behind Linda's car and walk to the front door. When I call out, she answers from the bedroom. "Come here, you," she cries. "I need some help."

I follow the sound of her voice and find her at her closet going through the bags of dress clothes.

"What the hell do you wear when a millionaire says your date is full dress?" she says nervously, a loose lock of blond hair falling over her forehead and left eye. I don't remember telling her that.

"Did Bill call?"

"'Bill', is it?" she says mockingly. "Yes, 'Bill' called and said to dress up. That he is going to take us someplace special."

"God, I don't know, Linda! In the fashion magazines and stuff, it ranges from ugly pants with sweaters up to $100,000 things with sequins all over. Did he say where we were going?"

"Huh uh. He wouldn't say. Just to dress up. Shit! I can't wear this thing." She was holding on to one of her old party dresses that she might have gotten when she was in college. I knew she'd fit into it but it was a little outdated. She looked almost funny running from one dress to another in a panic, her naked breasts bouncing and her french cut panties trying valiantly to hold her cute little bottom.

"Well, you take a quick shower and let me look for a minute. There's got to be something."

"Yeah, okay. You look and I'll be right back." She ducks into the bathroom. Suddenly she pops back out of the bathroom, looking me up and down as if she hadn't noticed me at all before and I don't think she had since I'd been home. "You're turning into a real alley cat," she finally says with a grin. "You leave here in one outfit and come home in another. Twice in two days. I'm not sure I like the sweater dress as well as the expensive fur you came home in last night."

I grin back at her now. As I shrug, hoping she isn't serious, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," I say.

"You don't want me to answer the door in this outfit?" she says as she shows off her nakedness.

I open the door to a delivery man with two large boxes in his arms. "Delivery, miss," he says as he holds them out to me. "There's a card there on top."

I push the door shut behind me as I carry the boxes to the bedroom and lay them down on the bed. I pull out the card from where it's tied to a ribbon around the boxes.

"Amy," it says.

"I thought even if you do have something particularly nice to wear tonight, you might like to have something new. Played hell getting both you and Linda's sizes but your boss, Bernice, knew right away.

"Picked them out myself. Hope you like them.

"Bill."

The door of the bathroom opens to a cloud of steam and Linda wrapped in a bath towel. "Who was it?" she asks.

"Delivery," I answer. "From Bill."

"Really? What is it?"

"I don't know. I haven't opened it."

"Well?" she says, exasperated. "Open it!"

"Yes, ma'am," I say as I pull the ribbon off the boxes and pull off the lid of the top one. "Oh, Linda," I sigh, pulling the dress out of the box. Shining black beads cover the soft material though, in fact, there is very little of it.

"It's beautiful, Amy," she says, touching the beaded material. I let her hold it as I turn to open the other box. When the top comes off, I see a vision in white gauze. I pick it up and feel its soft lightness. A small tag at the waist has my size on it. Moving to the other dress in Linda's hands, I see that it is her size.

"I think he chose for us," I say. "You'll wear black and I'll wear white."

"Oh, Amy. These have to be the prettiest dresses I've ever seen. They must have cost a fortune."

"I guess now we know how you dress when you go out with a millionaire."

"Yes. Any way he wants you to," she says with a laugh that I join her in.

During the next few minutes, I put on sheer pantyhose and the white dress with a pair of quite high, fine silver dress sandals. The dress falls, like a Greek woman's toga, in folds of gauzy material from shoulders to the crossing sides at a high waistline. Small catches hold the material tightly in a wide waistband under my breasts to my natural waist. Then other catches hold the outside fold of material across. This creates a very solid uplifting and squeezing of my breasts for a startling cleavage in the loose looking vee of the top. The tight waistband shows from ribs to sculpted waist. The filmy material then crosses my legs in front to a point near my ankles.

But a single step shows my leg to a point high above my knee. And sitting down allows it to open to the split of my legs. I have to actively tuck both leaves of the skirt between my legs, to keep from showing myself.

I smile at Linda and see her in the black beaded dress. I gulp as I do.

The dress, sparkling with its beads, hangs from straps at her shoulders that are about an inch wide and widening until the outside curves up from her hip at the waist and the inside drops between her breasts in a straight line to the center of her waist. Her bellybutton is centered in the lower part of the vee. The whole top seems to flow past her waist to her hips and then down to her upper thighs where it ends abruptly. If it fell to her knees, it would hold them so tightly together, she couldn't walk.

She's wearing black pantyhose and the pair of black patent shoes that are only toes of normal shoes and a very narrow band around her ankle, perched on high, very thin spikes.

I sit down at the makeup table and start to do dark mascara, shiny eye shadow, blush on cheekbones, and brilliant red lipstick while Linda does her almost white hair in long, classical ringlets that fall all around her face and down her bare back. Then we switch and I tease my hair into a fog of dark, unruly waves while she puts on her makeup -- blue eyeshadow to highlight her outstandingly blue eyes.

We both get small earrings and simple chain pendants that hang between our breasts.

When the doorbell rings, I can't believe it's seven already but it is. Bill comes in when I open the door and his eyes sparkle as he looks at me.

"Bill," I say as Linda comes out of the bedroom, shutting the light off behind her. "This is my wife, Linda."

"My god," he moans. "Both of you are so beautiful and so different from the other."

He's wearing a black tux with a red bow tie and cummerbund over a brilliantly white shirt. The studs and cufflinks in the shirt are diamonds a quarter of an inch across.

"Thank you for the dress, Bill," Linda says as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes. And mine," I say quickly.

"Ah, but I'm the winner. I get to look at you wearing them and have every man who sees us envy me." He stops and looks critically at each of us. "But there's something missing. Ah, I know what it is. Let's see here," he says as he pulls a velvet box out of his pocket. Opening the box, there are four earrings. Each post contains a diamond that must be at least two carets with three gold chains hanging to smaller diamonds. We quickly put them in and show him how they sparkle as they dangle from our ears. He kisses mine.

"And these," he says as he opens another box. This has two half inch wide chokers of diamonds. One has a gold chain fastened at each side with a half inch round pendant in the middle that holds a set of six huge diamonds. The center front of the choker has one very large diamond in it. The other choker has a single chain on which the biggest diamond I've ever seen dangles. Probably a half inch around.

Linda takes the one with the two chains and I put on the other, the large diamond hanging at the very top of my cleavage.

He's already opened the next velvet case that holds two bracelets of the same design as the necklaces. We put them on as we try not to get too excited, looking at each other in awe.

"And finally," he says, opening the last box. Again there are two pieces that look like bracelets but only a single width of diamonds wide with a single small dangling diamond in the same style as the necklaces. "Ankle bracelets," he explains. He gives Linda hers and kneels to put mine on for me.

"I've never felt so beautiful," Linda says with sparkling eyes that match the multitudes of sparkles around her body.

"And I've never seen anyone so beautiful," he says. "I hope you both like french food?"

"Yes!" I say, knowing the only place he could possibly take us in town.

"I also hope you aren't absolutely ravenous. It may take a little while till dinner." Without explanation, he leads us out of the door, pocketing our key for me, and guides us into the black limousine waiting at the curb. As the car moves smoothly away, he says, "Martinis?"

We nod and smile from either side of him. He leans forward and opens a small panel between the back facing seats to remove a tall, thin pitcher of clear, cold liquid. He pours into long fluted glasses as we hold them for him.

"To an adventure in living," he says as he raises his glass. We drink together and talk for a while, thanking him for everything and enjoying the soft ride into the darkness. Then we turn into a lighted area and I can see through the front window there's a Lear Jet sitting in front of us. The driver opens the door for us to get out and a steward in a tux meets us at the door of the Lear.

"I thought we'd be comfortable in the small plane tonight," he says as the door is fastened and the plane moves off. We sit in a smallish area that looks like someone's living room with gentle light, three soft swivel chairs, and two cocktail tables. The steward brings another pitcher of martinis. I can see the lights of the city falling away from us as the plane rises into the air.

"It crossed my mind that we could go to Paris tonight. Real french food, you know. But then I didn't really think our stomachs could hold out that long. We should be there in about an hour and --" he stops, holding his glass in another toast, "-- until then we can get our appetites ready."

The steward saves my life by setting a small tray of chips, dip, cheese, salami, caviar, and other goodies on the cocktail table. I start munching and drinking. It is wonderful.

It seems only minutes before the plane touches down and the driver is again handing us into the interior of another limousine. Twenty minutes later, and another martini, we are in front of one of the most famous skyscrapers in America. A minute later, we are in the most expensive restaurant I know of in the country, being treated like royalty and looked at by everyone in the place. I know absolutely that I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Linda and I are the most beautiful women in the place and Bill the most handsome man. God, it's wonderful. Then the food service begins and we eat seven full courses of the most wonderful food known to mankind, each one better than the last until we finally find it almost impossible to stuff bites of rich crepes suzettes into our mouths. The dress feels very tight around my waist now.

The trip reverses itself now with coffee and Franjelica, coffee and very old brandy, coffee and ouzo. But as we head toward our house, I ask Bill if he'd take us to his apartment. "I really want Linda to see your home," I plead.

"Okay," he says. "On one condition."

"What's that?" I ask.

"That I can show Linda our videos. Agreed?"

"Is that what you were doing last night?" Linda asks. I nod. "Did you get paid well for it?"

"Oh, I haven't shown you the check yet. $100,000. Is that good enough?"

"God! What did you do?"

"I think you'll see," I grin. "But --" I begin as I look deep into Bill's eyes, "-- I think I would have done it for nothing."

That visibly pleases him.

"Or," I say. "I would have done it for the experience I had this morning."

Linda doesn't miss much. She immediately jumps on that statement. "What experience this morning?"

"I think --" I begin, "-- you're going to have to see it to believe it." This makes Bill squirm in his leather upholstered seat between us.

"Okay, Bill. Lead us to your videos," I say. He grins and picks up a telephone and talks to the driver.

Chapter 13

Linda IS PROPERLY impressed by Bill's fabulous apartment. As he did with me, he gives her a guided tour of the entire place before we sit down. As it was for me, the bedroom impresses her the most.

After he gets us each a drink, he pushes the tape into the player. We watch in silence as I move into the frame of the camera in my black dress. I'm cuddling into Bill's side as he narrates the silent film, explaining how we are going to put sound to it in the next few days. The only business I'd ever heard him discuss he said by the end of next week, he'd be selling copies of this video for $49.95 each in Scandinavia, France and Germany and after two weeks he will have earned back the $100,000 he'd paid me.

I watched Linda squirm as she watched the sensual tape unfold until I was spurting my come onto my dress on the big screen.

"Damn, that's sexy," she moans. I like to watch her when she's this turned on. Her whole body seems to squirm with it in little ways. She squeezes her legs together and releases, she twists her ankle, her hand clasps and unclasps, she licks her lips, she even tweaks her nipples through the material of the beaded dress. As I come on the screen, I see her squeeze her legs more tightly together, lifting her knee to rub them together. She's breathing hard as Bill slides the other tape into the machine and we watch the same sorts of things again, starting in that filmy nightgown. This time when my image on the screen comes, she moans loudly. I wonder if she came, too, just then but I'm not sure.

"So, what do you think, Linda?" Bill says. "Was it worth $100,000?"

"God! It was almost worth that to me!" I grin, embarrassed. "Who taught you to be that sexy, Amy?"

"You know exactly who taught me," I say. "She's a great teacher, don't you think?" I ask Bill.

"I'd say."

We just sat for a minute. Linda was obviously trying to get herself under control again. I was trying to overcome my embarrassment. Bill was just enjoying the two of us in our discomfort. We finished our drinks in silence.

"Like to watch something different?" Bill says finally. I know what I want to watch and it isn't on the VCR. Linda starts to say something but I interrupt her.

"Yes!" I say. "I know exactly what I want to see." I stand up and take Bill by one hand and Linda with the other and lift them to their feet. I lead them straight to Bill's huge bed and though both of them seem reticent, I force them onto it. Linda gets into it enough to help me press Bill down onto his back near the middle. I speak to Linda. "Now you're going to see the most fantastically wonderful body you've ever seen. Are you ready?" She looks at me sort of strangely but nods.

I point her toward his shoes while I get him back sitting up and take his coat off. Linda's got his shoes and socks off now. I undo the cummerbund and the bow tie before pushing him back onto his back. Linda, ready now, unfastens his pants and pulls them down and off to reveal underwear that I see match the cummerbund and tie.

Looking into his eyes and sharing our secret, about to be revealed, we grin. Then I start undoing the diamond studs down his front.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask Linda. She just looks perplexed. Not understanding. I open his shirt with both my hands running down his chest until my hands rest on his breasts. Looking at Linda, I move my hands enough for her to see.

She's already seen the bulge in his pants and now she sees his small breasts, tipped with very hard nipples. She does about a triple take before looking at me with real confusion in her eyes. Bill's being unusually patient, I think, as I move to his side and start pulling down his underwear. Now, she seems surprised when his hard cock is revealed and does another triple take.

"Now, look at this," I say with a big smile. I pull his underwear the rest of the way off, letting him get away with covering himself a little by lifting the leg nearest Linda. But when the underwear are off, I force his legs apart.

"Amy?" he says as I finally get him spread as far as I want him. He's both embarrassed and a little frightened of her reaction.

"Oh, my god!" Linda says. "He's both!" Then she looks at Bill. "You're both sexes!"

"I know," he says with a still embarrassed grin.

"And he can do amazing things with both sets of organs," I say huskily.

"Really?" she sighs. "Then, what are we waiting for." She grins suggestively as she reaches behind her back and undoes the zipper of her dress. She shrugs it off her shoulders and catches the waistband of her pantyhose as she strips it off her hips with a sexy little squirm that makes her breasts bound wildly.

As I do the same, she grabs two pillows from the top of the bed and makes Bill raise up his middle until she can slide them under him. Now his spread legs are a foot off the bed and his back bent unnaturally. Linda dives between his legs and pushes her tongue deep into him as her hand wraps around his dick. He moans.

"What's left for me?" I protest.

"Are those nipples sensitive?" she mumbles quickly. I grin at him and lay down beside him to suck the left one.

"Every man's dream come true," he says as he starts to squirm under Linda's ministrations. From experience, I can tell he's about to come. Linda has sensed it too and stops tonguing him. Instead, on her knees between his spread legs, she brushes her hair out of her eyes and plunges her mouth over his cock until it is completely buried.

"You said it really works, right?" she says then as she sits up to look at us. Bill's eyes are crossed with his near climax as I nod vigorously. She almost stands up and moves around until her cute little ass is facing us, her legs on either side of his hips. Then she lowers herself onto his cock with a satisfied moan.

As I continue to suck on his nipples, both Bill and I reach for her cute butt, his thumb finding her asshole before mine does. As if in retaliation, she looks over her shoulder and puts some fingers in his cunt. Now he can't stand it and comes deep inside my wife, his entire body tensing into a tight spasm.

I can't stand it and, while he's still settling from it, I work Linda around a little and roll both of them onto their sides on the bed. From behind, my cock goes into his wet, hot, very lubricated hole.

"God!" Linda cries. "It's like your cock went straight up the inside of his, it's so hard again already!"

"Bill," I moan, "I'm going to let you do us both. Just do what feels natural." I pull out now until I'm just hovering at his opening and he's beginning to moan at the deprivation.

"Oh, I'm losing you! No. Ah," he says through clenched teeth. He pulls back onto my cock a ways. "Oh, please, Amy. I'm not as long as you. I'm about to fall out of Linda. Please!" he signs. "Oh, god, yes," he moans as I meet his behind completely as he tries to hold at Linda's portal in spite of her continuous squirming to get him back into her.

"Oh, fuck," she says softly. "This is awful! Oh!" I feel him plunge away from me and into her to his furthest extent and she moans with satisfaction as does he. I can feel him vibrate with his feeling inside her. I put my hand around his body to take his nipples in my fingers to squeeze. My mouth goes to the back of his soft neck. I can feel that he's doing the same to Linda at the same time as if he's passing on the feelings. She moans and squirms for herself and for Bill. When he pulls her close to his front, it crushes my hands into his breasts roughly.

Now he sets us a regular pace with his body moving between the two of us -- stroking me behind and her in front. I can feel his straining inside her and, at the same time, squeezing me tightly. "Mmmmm. That feels so wonderful," I moan into his neck. It's what sets him off. Suddenly, his center is raging between the two of us until he loses control and makes a strangled scream.

I see that Linda is doing the same thing in front of him, clutching and curling and straining in her climax. And my own comes on. I fill him full of my come in a half dozen blinding, deep strokes that match and exceed his. Linda's spread upper leg comes around his and holds both of us to her by pulling my knee into the back of his leg.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," Linda screams then to our enjoyment. My hand goes to her clit for that final coup de grace and finds the back of Bill's already there. I help in her final extremes as Bill climaxes powerfully between the two of us. I know he is filling her even as I feel his come finding exit around my cock as he spasms.

Our bodies settle until there is no sound in the room but our intermingled heavy breathing.

"That was ..." Bill begins.

"Fantastic," Linda finishes. We all hug each other together, her hands and arms holding ours to her fantastic body.

During the next hours, we found many new and exciting experiences before we finally fell asleep locked together, Bill in me, me between Linda's spread legs, our breasts rubbing together.

"This is heaven," Bill sighed into my warm dream.

I woke up in the darkest part of the night, too warm, and moved out from between the others' legs. Making my way to the bathroom, I emptied my bladder and when I got back, found my spot had disappeared as Linda rolled toward Bill and Bill rolled onto her side slightly, his leg crossing over hers from behind. I lay down on the other side of Linda and copied the position to fall back to sleep.

When I wake again, Linda is chewing on my lower lip, her leg over mine. As I open my eyes a crack, I see the smile in her eyes before she looks at me and stops the chewing.

"He's wonderful, Amy," she whispers.

"I know. That's how we spent this morning."

"I thought so," she laughs. "I have some catching up to do, I think." She hoists herself over me and guides my newly hardened member between her legs, sitting up on her knees over me so her breasts dangle down toward me. By pressing upward until my back almost hurts, I can get her high enough so I can suck on her nipples.

"Umm. Look at this," Bill says from beside us. I switch to Linda's other nipple and Bill slips up close to her so he can take the one I just left. I feel her almost lift off me as he begins playing with her ass.

"Yes!" she hisses. "Oh, put your finger in me, too." Then she stiffens as he does it. For a long time, she squirms and rolls her center as he fingers her ass and I continue stroking into her cunt.

Then he leaves her nipple and I feel him lowering down her body until, once again, she stiffens and looks over her shoulder at him. Since his knees are between my calves, I know he is tonguing her ass down to my pistoning cock. I can feel him licking it on the outward strokes as well.

"Oh, shit," she moans loudly. "Yes! Yes! Ahhh, yes. In my ass. Yes!" She's pumping powerfully on me now, almost ripping her nipple out of my mouth. I see Bill's head at her shoulder as he's moved up her body. "Oh, both! Yessss! Ahhhh! God!" she cries. I can feel his dick through the thin layer of flesh between her two holes as he plunges into it. We purposely work against each other's thrusts until she climaxes magnificently, trying to free herself or impale herself further. I can't be sure. Before one climax has finished, she climaxes again and then again.

My come pours into her as Bill clenches and pours into her ass. As we all settle, I can feel everyone stirring the same way I am with the stickiness of night sweat and sex.

"I've got to get a shower," Linda says blearily.

"Me, too," I say from the bottom of the stack with my breath coming a little hard under the weight.

"I get to soap up two pairs of breasts," Bill giggles from the top.

"So do I," I say.

"Me, too," Linda says as we start to unpile and move to the shower. An hour later and with gentle attention from Linda to both our tired dicks, we work together and dry her entire body thoroughly. So thoroughly, actually, that she has two more orgasms without either of us touching her directly.

"It's Saturday. No work today. What shall we do instead?"

"Let's see," Linda says, looking at the clock. "It's 1 o'clock. Let's find some breakfast and go shopping."

"Great," I agree.

"I'll bring the money." He's reaching for a pair of the ugly men's underwear. I look at Linda and she smiles back at me.

"Nope. We're ALL going shopping. For skirts and blouses and dresses and high heeled shoes."

Bill blanched. "I've dressed as a woman before, of course," he said. "But I'm not pretty or even good looking. It embarrasses me."

"Oh, no," I add to the discussion. "You've got the most beautiful legs of any of us. And you can wear all the high fashion stuff that we have too much tit to wear."

"But ... my dick," he mumbles.

"I've got more of that, too. And I do just fine."

"Yes, Amy. But you've got such a beautiful face and hair and, I don't know. You're just very feminine. I'm not."

"Then I guess we're going to have to help you get beautiful," Linda says with a grin. "Besides. I think you could be very pretty with a little makeup and the right hairstyle. And we can fix that, right, Amy?" I both nod and smile at them.

"Now. Do you have a bra with a little padding?" He nods. I think he's getting into it as he moves tentatively to his drawers of underwear. Linda goes to his closet, bulging with beautiful women's clothing.

Chapter 14

THE MODERATELY PADDED bra gives Bill a little bosom but only a little. I help him tuck in, in the tiny panties we choose for him. He doesn't even have to shave his legs for them to look wonderful in the thigh high nylons. Right away, Linda gets him into a pair of high white pumps that, for a while, he struggles in before seeming to come to some accommodation.

His legs and butt look great when he's wearing the pumps and I enjoy that.

Linda picks out a cute white teeshirt material skirt while I pick out a white silk body suit top. The 3/4 sleeves end in frills as does the open neckline. In the combination, he looks very fashionable as well as cute as hell.

We make him participate in putting on makeup and doing his short hair. But when we're all done, he looks like a pixyish young blond girl that could stride the runways in any fashion house in the world. A couple of bracelets, a necklace that hangs outside the frills down his front and onto his bosom, and long, dangly earrings complete his outfit. Only a little coaxing and a couple of threats get him to raise the register of his voice enough to be more than believable.

By way of final touches, I get him to stop walking like a construction worker, putting one foot directly in front of the other instead, and watch his actions start to match as he really tries. He's still deathly afraid but I, of all people, tell him not to worry. Maybe I know how.

"Wait until you watch the guy at the shoe store look up your skirt and get a hard-on. Then you'll be convinced." I know he will be, too. That's the one that really convinced me. That and a very convincing wife.

He sits close to us as we go through our motions of making ourselves beautiful as well. We try to pick things that are similarly casual and fun. Linda ends up in a yellow jumpsuit with the top unzipped indecently far. I end up in a dress with a short, flared skirt and a wide open top that almost but not quite shows my tits. No bra.

"So, where to?" he asks.

"Pinehills," Linda says. I know of the up-scale mall and smile. We explain to Bill and he agrees reluctantly. We haven't really convinced him to go out with us, let alone to so public a place. But he's being a good sport. "Bring your gold card," she grins and he panics. He can't sign with his own name when he looks like a woman. No one would accept it. Though we assure him most wives use their husbands' card, he won't go along. I pull mine out and Linda does as well.

"Okay," I say looking at my watch. "It's 5 o'clock now. We ought to have about four hours to shop. Let's go!"

He calls down to his secretary as Bill Barnes and tells him three women will be coming down to the limo and that the driver is to take them anywhere they want to go for the night. He adds that he'll be unavailable.

In fifteen minutes, we're walking into Pinehills Mall. Yuppie paradise. We walk Bill straight to the shoe store, just as we said we would. He enjoys himself so thoroughly, at the expense of the clerk, that we end up with about five pairs of shoes apiece.

We lead him to Little Lingerie where we stock up on underthings and nighties that he keeps telling us are so fantastic, he's not going to be able to sleep even if he's wearing them. Then we head for the big dress stores and, a dozen outfits apiece later, leave. We keep sending storekeepers to the limo and wonder if it's filled up yet.

While Linda is trying on a little silver dress with tassels all along the very very VERY short skirt, we meet Norman and Walt. They challenge us as they stand looking at Linda modeling the dress for us.

"I'll buy anything I pick out that you'll wear with nothing but pantyhose and shoes," Norman says first. He has a wonderful smile that limits the effect of his intimidating body. He has to be 6-4 and probably 220. Walt is his equal though, with the copious black hair flowing out of his open shirt, and a 5 o'clock shadow, he looks more intimidating in the process. Only his smile moderates his general look. And if the two weren't wearing expensive suits over the equally expensive shirts, ties pulled down from their thick necks, you'd think they were construction workers.

After a bit of conversation, dominated by Linda of course, we learn that they aren't construction workers but were at one time, working up through the ranks into management of a construction company. Now they're co-owners and Bill, at least, has heard of their company.

It really surprises me when Bill is the one who answers the men. "It's a deal! You'll buy anything we wear with just pantyhose and shoes. Right?"

"Right," they answer together.

"Then start picking some clothes out," Bill says with a grin. He's really getting into this now. I'm just hoping that he hasn't forgotten that he and I have some limitations on what we can wear.

With a broad grin at each other, they wade into the stacks of clothes. The sales girls are really enjoying this. They can see profits coming.

The first things they come up with are three blouses that you can easily see right through. Breast men. Good, I sigh. Bill's not so happy. But we do it, coming out of the dressing room a few minutes later in our own skirts -- Linda in one she was looking at earlier -- and the blouses. Looking at Linda and Bill, I know everyone can see everything I've got as well. I rub Bill's nipples with my wet fingers before he tucks in the tails of the blouse and his hard little nubs press against the inside of the blouse as we model them.

"Damn," Walt says when he sees Bill. "What a cute little boy shape you've got."

"But these two sure as hell don't have boy shapes."

"I like this, though," Walt says as he pecks Bill on the cheek.

Three dresses, obviously meant to be worn over slips and made of the same type of material, are next on the guys' list. The combination of tucking very carefully, the pantyhose, and the dress material is just enough to keep from giving away our secrets. The two men howl in response to our reappearance in the dresses. Applause. Laughter. Surprise at our willingness to do it. They love it and, I see by looking at Bill and Linda, so do we.

Next they pick the tightest skirts I think I've ever seen. A short leather one, a black spandex one, and a lightweight springy one with a little longer skirt. Linda takes the short leather one and I get the lightweight springy one. Maybe they're ass men. It's amazing how these tight skirts cup up under your ass and shape to your tummy. I don't think anybody could sit in one.

Again the guys are appreciative of our style show for them. Bill and I make sure we stay away from their grasping fingers but Linda gets caught momentarily for a quick feel.

"Damn," she says in the dressing room. "I wonder if these guys are as well proportioned between the legs as everywhere else."

"What an interesting idea," Bill says with a grin. It surprises me a little after his reticence to even go out with us in the first place.

"Don't get us into something I can't get myself out of," I say. "I'm the only one of us who's likely to be a major disappointment."

We put on the little dresses they picked out that are little more than bikinis with some intervening material to form some sort of skirt and middle. Actually, the one I'm forced to wear because of the more considerable skirt part, only has a pair of postage stamp-sized pieces of material to cover my nipples. Though it really doesn't look particularly good with pantyhose, that was the deal and I'm happy because the skirt is short enough I think I might hang out below it if I didn't have them on.

The guys are a little disappointed by the pantyhose but Linda's lack of them under her outfit, that's about like mine at both the top and bottom, seems to mollify them somewhat. I hear the squish as Norman grabs her and puts his hand between her legs. Finally he lets her go and she looks a little reluctant to end the solid kiss he placed on her mouth as he fingered her. Or many fingers, I'm not sure. God, she looks hot in that outfit but she might as well have nothing at all on.

"Tell you what," Walt states. "If you'll wear the next things we pick out, we'll take you to dinner at Dellacrou. It's probably the best Italian restaurant in the state. What do you say?"

"Let's see the clothes, first," Bill says intelligently.

"Fair enough." He turns to Norman and they wade into the stacks of clothes. "This is yours, baby," he says to Linda. It's a black dress that includes a buckled collar from which the dress hangs, the top spreading from a two-inch connection to the collar to a short skirt that, when she holds it in front of her, I can see is just barely long enough. There is only about a three-inch strip of material at the back of the skirt and I'm interested to see how that works when it's on.

The one they hand Bill is white filmy material at the top to a long skirt. The skirt splits to the waist in the front. Bill blushes but nods. Mine is brilliant red with tiny strings to tie around the neck and a low front. No back at all. The skirt is long but, like Bill's, slit to the waist. This time on the side. I nod and we all move to the dressing room.

It's fun in the dressing room. My dress actually has a sort of loose waistline that is enforced a little by the string tie around the back of my neck. The open back perches on the shelf of my ass just above my pantyhose. The front sort of filmily covers my breasts, the sides of them allowed to show by the cut of the material. When I sit, it's possible to cover my legs and keep the material there even with the slit up the side. It is neat when I walk though, opening on one leg clear up to my hip.

Bill's is filmy pretty and accents his white skin and blond hair. His little breasts aren't highlighted but, instead, the front slit lets his gorgeous legs peak out with each step, the material swirling around them and even to the sides. He readjusts himself because he's more likely to be discovered with it between his legs than up the crease of one leg.

Linda's black dress is outrageous. She can step into it because there really isn't a waist but, when the little collar around her neck is fastened, the material drops just across the outsides of her nipples, around her ribcage, and, still lowering, to the top of the crack of her ass, actually letting it show slightly when you look down as you would normally when you stand behind her. There's only about 12 inches of material below the back waist and that sculpts up in front until it just covers her when looked at at skirt level. And there's no way she can wear the pantyhose with this cause it would show in back.

"Whoa!" Walt says when he sees us. "Look at this!"

"Fantastic!" Norman says.

"I can't wear pantyhose with this," Linda says. "So I'll need to get a pair of panties so I don't gross anyone out."

"No, no," Walt says loudly. "That wasn't the deal. Pantyhose or nothing." Our salesgirl is blushing brightly.

"But --" Linda begins, holding the skirt to the front of her thighs and looking down.

"Oh, no," Norman says. "It was your choice not to wear pantyhose. And that was the deal." She shrugs.

"I guess you're the ones who'll be embarrassed if I show off everything to every guy in the place."

"We'll suffer," Norman says.

"It's dark anyway," Walt seconds.

He looks around, picking up the packages around them. "Have everything? We already paid the lady." We'd already put our street clothes out here earlier and didn't see them so agreed.

We see that we shopped 'till 8 o'clock and now the majority of the people in the expensive mall are little rich kids on the way to the movie theater or arcade by way of the broad central walk, or adults on their way to dinner. They seem to be dressed much as we are though not as provocatively.

Bill noticed the driver near the door and handed him the packages and told him where we'd be. The men offered their arms. Linda and I took Norman's while Bill walked with Walt. I enjoyed watching the way Bill's bottom waggled in the high heels and the way the teenagers, of both sexes, giggled, ogled, and outright stared at us before we entered the quiet restaurant.

The tuxedoed man at the door leads us to a large, horseshoe booth. Linda sits in the center next to both men while Bill sits next to Walt across from me and Norman.

"This has been great," Norman says. "I haven't enjoyed anything as much in years."

"It has something to do with our fantastic models," Walt says.

"I don't know about Linda and, ah, Bea, but I sure enjoyed it," I say. "We got some nice things, too."

"I think I'd wear more under them in other circumstances," Linda says, pulling her skirt down, or, at least, trying to. It only succeeds in pulling the top tight against her hard nipples so they show perfectly. I can only grin.

"Strangely, I've really enjoyed it, too," Bill says. I'm surprised. "Well," he says looking at me, "why not? Nice clothes. Good company. Good fun. Right?"

"Right!" Walt and Norm chorus. The menus are taken up and the wine steward comes to the table. We order martinis around as well as two bottles of Chianti for dinner. After the food comes (as good as advertised), we drink, laugh, and generally have fun.

"Woo!" Linda says then and I look at her. She's blushing and sitting very straight, I see.

"What's wrong, Linda," Bill asks.

"Ah, nothing," she says hesitantly, looking at Norman. "Just took me by surprise."

"What?" he asks again. She blushes brightly.

"Ah," she says rather more pointedly than any normal response. "Nothing. Really." Again she jumps.

Norm turned to me then. "What she's not saying is that I just put my hand on her leg."

"Yeah," she says. "I'd forgotten how short this skirt is. Oh! Now quit that!" she says to him. "And you, too," she says to Walt.

"You're sure?" Walt says and she stiffens again.

"Yes I'm sure!" she says. "Now don't!"

"Don't what? I can't imagine what you're talking about," Norman says with a grin. Now her mouth comes open and her bedroom eyes appear.

"You ... ah, you know," she sighs. Then she relaxes. "Whew!" she says.

"Maybe someone else would appreciate us," Walt says to Norman and Norm grins. I feel his hand touch the top of my thigh closest to his leg and jump just as Linda did. Quickly, my hand darts to the back of his. I can see that Bill, blushing brightly, has reacted the same way.

"What is it with you ladies?" Norman says. "You showed us everything but your cute little pussies a little while ago. You don't mind if we just get a little dessert, do you?"

"Maybe not," I say, holding his hand tightly where it rests on my thigh. "But not here. Okay?"

"I don't know," he says and I see Linda stiffen again. He squeezes my thigh with his huge hand, only a couple of scant inches away from the biggest surprise of his life. I'm holding my own but, I can see, only because Linda is not doing as well. She looks at Bill and I for help for just a second then her look changes.

"Oh!" she moans. "Oh. Oh, yes!" She's squirming now.

"You don't know what you're missing," Walt says to Bill.

"Neither do you," Bill says back with a smile that he shares with me across the table as he grabs his wine with his free hand. I do the same thing with my own wine then get the bottle and refill Norm's glass as well. He looks at me with a grin and, reluctantly, moves his hand from my thigh to the glass.

Linda has closed her eyes now and is rocking in her seat.

"Linda's a screamer," I say with a grin. "Hope you're ready for that."

Both men laugh and Walt returns his hand to his wine glass and away from Bill. Bill sighs with relief as he looks at me. He's a little pale. They obviously haven't moved from Linda's lap since they started and I can tell she's about to come. As I see her pace change, I lift my glass. "Salute!" I say.

"Salute," the other three say loudly as Linda moans loudly with her climax. It almost works though there's definitely a different quality to her toast. It lasts longer, too. We're all laughing and trying to swallow the gulps of wine as we watch her.

We give Linda a few minutes to calm down, Norm trying my thigh again, switching hands on his wineglass, before we get up to leave.

Bill surprises everyone, including the men, when he asks if they'd like a nightcap.

Bill vouches for everyone when we get to his building, the men's arms full of our purchases. The better to keep them off us. I'm surprised the guard knows him but, without saying anything that would give away the situation, he says, "The guards have to know. Besides, you could have got us in."

"This your sugar daddy's place?" Norm says.

"Yeah. I guess you could say that," I answer.

"Yours, too, sweetie?" Walt asks Bill.

"Well. Maybe you could say that." He grins at me again. He leads us into the apartment and indicates the chairs by the door to deposit the packages.

We all sit in the sunken living room and Bill serves everyone Ouzo. We talk quietly for a while, rather uncomfortably, I think. On the second or third Ouzo, I'm surprised as Bill puts one knee on the big couch next to Walt and lowers his mouth to the man's. Norman wow's as he watches the kiss extend and Walt's fingers accepted on Bill's hard nipples near him.

"Do you like that," Bill says as he pulls back slightly.

"Oh, yeah, baby. I've been waiting all night for that," Walt says.

"But Amy has a nicer body than I do," he says.

"I don't know," Walt says and Norman seconds it. "I like little tits like that," Norman says. Then he turns to me. "But I like big ones, too." He looks down at my chest. Maybe I know what Bill's doing now. I get up slightly on one knee and kiss Norman solidly on the lips, letting my tongue delve into his mouth. It sounds like he's going to hyperventilate as I break the kiss. Bill motions to me and, following his lead, we switch. For the next several minutes, we kiss the two men and feel them respond to us.

Linda is sitting between the two men again and only looks from one to the other of us like a tennis watcher. She's grinning so broadly she may not be able to hold it back. Walt's hands are all over my breasts but I fend him off when he moves lower. Bill's doing the same thing.

Then Bill moves away from Norm to the VCR and I think I know what's about to happen.

"There's something I'd like you to see," he says with a grin. "A new product the company is about to market."

"Oh, no," Walt groans. "Now?"

"Oh, I think you'll enjoy it." As the leader rolls out on the tape, Bill extends his hand to Linda and presses me into the spot between the two men. Linda smiles and sits down in one of the chairs where she can watch me and the two men.

Norm watches Bill round the couch and come up behind me. I don't know what he's got in mind but I know what's going to happen when they see the end of the tape, I'm afraid. Bill unties the string at the back of my neck and, if I wasn't quick, the whole top would have dropped in my lap.

"All right!" Norm moans and attracts Walt's attention. He immediately sees the loose strings that used to hold my top up. Bill's still right behind me, leaning against the back of the couch. Both men turn to me then to play with the little strings. They only divert their attention slightly to look at the screen but I see myself in the little nightgown as I walk to the big bed.

"Whoa!" Walt says. "That's you, isn't it?" I only nod and smile. I wonder if I'm about to get killed.

My image on the big screen climbs onto the bed and begins the slow manipulation of breasts and tongue and everything else I could think of at the time.

"God, that's hot!" Norm moans as he watches, his hand still poised over my chest holding a string. Walt is frozen in a similar attitude.

"Tell me if they're as big as I think they are, Amy," Bill whispers behind me. Norm sits up to straighten himself. I watch myself playing with my body sensuously in front of us.

"You're unbelievable!" Walt says. I decide I might as well try it. I let go of my top, since there's no alternative, and lower my hands to the front of their pants on both sides of me. I start fairly low and feel large bulges. "Careful, baby. You'll get more than you expect there," Walt says. I follow the bulge up, knowing that it is one of the fattest cocks I've ever touched or, in other circumstances, seen.

Now, on the screen, I've taken off the top and am playing with my hard nipples. Both men take a moment to glance at my exposed chest now before turning back to the screen. Their hands are on them now.

I let my fingers trace the shape of Norman's cock then as I move a little on Walt's. I follow Norm's up and up until I reach his belt and, jumping it, find that he's actually sticking out above it and under his shirt. I catch Bill's attention by turning my head, and nod yes with a big smile. He moves to the VCR and presses pause. I know I'm in trouble.

Both men turn to the real thing.

"God, you're fantastic!" Walt says and, looking down at my exposed chest, turns his head and covers my nipple. His hand clasps my thigh roughly but I quickly move my hand to intercept him yet again. Norm now has done the same thing and I have his hand, too. It's not time yet for the unveiling. I think Bill has that one in mind.

But they're driving me wild with their tongues on my nipples, pulling and sucking and stretching and tonguing them at the same time. It's enormously sexy and making me squirm with every new touch.

Bill restarts the VCR and I watch myself humping a pillow for several minutes, the two men looking too, though they haven't released my nipples yet from their probing tongues.

I watch Bill move to Norm's side and motion Linda to Walt's. They take their free hands and, at the same time, begin to manipulate their hard dicks inside their pants. The men are going crazy.

On the screen, it's almost time. As I think I'm going to come just from the stimulation of the tape and their tongues on my breasts, my image turns and there I am. My cock spews come onto my swollen nipples on the screen.

It's as if someone has hit the two men even as they watch me come and then settle sensually on the screen. I can actively feel their jaws loosen since they are around my nipples.

"Oh, what the fuck," Walt says. Norm is staring at the screen in disbelief as the tape ends and auto rewinds.

"Are you all ..." Norm begins. "Of course not," he says as he looks at Linda. After all it hasn't been that long since he had his hand in her snatch.

Bill is in front of him and turns his back to him. He's taken the pantyhose off and, moving the skirt aside, guides Norm's hand to his pussy from behind.

"A lot depends on how you react right now," Bill says into the ringing silence. Norm's fingers are buried in Bill's cunt now.

"Fuck, I don't care," Walt says from the other side of me. "You're still the sexiest thing I've ever seen. He buries his mouth in my breast again and, as Linda lets go of his hand, lowers to go into my pantyhose. Almost immediately, he finds my cock and wraps around it.

"Norm?" Bill says.

"I don't care either. But I sure like your cunt."

"Will you suck my clitoris?" he says with a grin.

"In a second," he moans.

Bill turns. His hard cock is standing out from his naked stomach as he holds up the folds of the white dress.

Norm laughs loudly. "You are very unusual folks, aren't you?"

"I'll agree with that," Bill says as he brings his dick to Norman's mouth and sighs as it passes his teeth. Norm leans forward and buries his hand in Bill's pussy at the same time, now probing for his asshole as well until he finds it.

As Linda frees Walt's dick and begins moving her hand on it's huge roundness, he lowers his mouth to my lap, pushing my pantyhose down past my knees to my ankles.

"So," Linda says. "Who's going to fuck who with what?" Everybody laughs, no matter what they have in their mouths. Linda shrugs and lowers her mouth onto Walt's lip stretching cock.

Chapter 15

DURING THE LAST few months, I've made three full scale porno movies along with two more amateur efforts with Linda and Bill. We staged one with Ivan and Francie in the first part, and with Walt and Norm in the last part. The other effort was strictly me, Linda and Bill in front of Sonny's multiple cameras. We even got Sonny to join us after a while. But mostly it was a private sort of affair that I'm already gaining royalties on.

A week after we met Walt and Norm and went on our great shopping trip, Bill got me an appointment with a fine surgeon and the same afternoon, with my psychiatrist. Neither were what I expected.

Carol Venter, my surgeon, is the foremost reconstructive surgeon in the area and the only person who does an adequate job with sex reassignment surgery. It's a little distracting to have a tall blond with enormous tits sitting between your legs while you are laid out in a thin paper gown and trussed to stirrups.

She didn't start our first encounter well when she walked in and grabbed me by the dick, saying, "So why in the world do you want to get rid of this beautiful thing?"

Though I enjoyed her examination thoroughly, she didn't change my mind though she distressed Sonny, who was taking film of the encounter, a lot. It seems he has the same question.

She's a wonderful doctor, even if her sense of humor is a little strange. I know, completely and unequivocally, every step of the process along with all the external and internal "adjustments" that are going to happen. Almost slice by slice, as a matter of fact. I also know the probabilities of total failure (dying, they call it), a failed internal re-placement, a failed external connection, and nerve damage. The first two are highly unlikely while the third is a 50-50 and the nerve damage is a major possibility. All but the first and the last can be corrected by further surgery. Dead is dead and nerve damaged is final.

She keeps calling it minor surgery and, for her, it probably is. Every time I think of it, I go pale again.

What still surprises me is how close a man's genital structure, internally and externally, are to a woman's. The transition from male to female is almost trivial. It would be true the other way around but for a penis. The blood vessels necessary to inflate it properly and the extra skin to form it are a problem there.

The biggest problem going to female is rerouting the urethra and removing the prostate. You have to piss right and you can't have a bunch of male hormones flooding into your body to confuse things. Of course, the whole thing sounds fantastically painful. Openings here and there, scraping a lot of places, regrowing and reconnecting all over, and losing my balls, of course, sound like a lot.

She did guarantee me a mix of good and bad. I won't feel a thing under the knife, I'll hurt like hell for a couple of days, it will go away, I'll have the tightest cunt in town, and I won't have to worry about tucking in any more. She also guaranteed that my body would never produce enough lubrication but that I can supplement it externally. Everything else is maybe or maybe not, depending on her skill.

The psychiatrist, on the other hand, is almost as strange an experience.

Dr. Freedman, Arkady to me, is a seriously deranged man who looks and, usually, acts like my grandfather. He asks and I answer. And with every answer, I wonder if he is judging and ready to veto the entire thing for lack of appropriate psychological basis.

You see, I really have to convince him that I'm not just doing this as a lark of some sort but that it is necessary to my psychological well-being. I have to really want it, actually feel that I'm really a female, to convince him. What's strange is that I'm having less problem sincerely feeling that than I thought I would. After all, I spent a lot of time being a guy.

I've thoroughly explored my relationship with each of my parents and my brother and sisters, my marriage, my work ... everything.

He actually guided me through the times I had sex with guys in college. And yes. I remembered a couple of other times. I even remembered a deeply buried memory of a camp counselor when I was nine who made me give him a blowjob before he did the same for me. I don't really think I was purposely burying it but it took a lot of thought before I could really remember any details.

He talked me through every second of the last year, I think. All my feelings and fears and enjoyments were laid bare to his probing.

In all, it was a lot more painful and revealing than my time in the stirrups with Carol Venter between my legs.

There have been some interesting times.

For instance, when I had my x-rays, I walked into the hospital in blouse, skirt, panties, and high heels. It's real tough to walk around a hospital in a piece of cloth, tied together in the back, without showing anything "extra" off. The x-ray technician spent a lot of time arranging my legs, turning me by hand, etc. etc. when he took my pictures. But he only looked real pale after he'd developed them to deliver to Carol.

Another of those times was with Carol and her nurse as she took detailed measurements of everything down there, the nurse taking notes. I guess she knew beforehand, but she certainly had a hard time staying calm as Carol pulled and stretched and measured and prodded. Afterwards, Sonny got to film another little piece of porn as the nurse insisted on her own, closer, inspection. I think it was sort of like a bunch of rednecks trying to reform a dedicated lesbian. She was quite a missionary for staying male. It almost would have worked if she hadn't found my nipples and turned them into the center of her attention for quite a while.

Now, Dr. Arkady and I are into an entirely new direction as well. And this is interesting. He asks me tough hypothetical questions, and I get to scramble to answer. The one about kids and future generations without my seed was easy. I don't care. Others are much tougher.

"Given a choice," he asks, "would I prefer to give a man a blow job or eat out a woman?" That's miserably tough. I like pussy best but I don't mind a cock either. But I think, in free thinking people, that may be fairly universal for women as well as men.

"Would you rather be on top or on the bottom?" Yes. Either one. Control isn't really one of my big hangups.

"Would you rather watch a football game or wash the dishes?" Give me a break. You couldn't ask any woman in the country the same question and get a different answer. Nobody likes to do dishes. No matter how much they hate football.

"Do you like red, blue, yellow, black, or brown best in clothing?" It depends totally on who's in it and how the clothes are put together. I've seen some wonderful brown outfits on women and, quickly to mind, a hugely fat woman in a pair of yellow shorts that almost made me sick. I've got to admit though that clothing is a big part of my decision as well as the relationships of people.

I like being treated like a lady. Particularly a beautiful lady. It's flattering, ego building, and just generally enjoyable. But I didn't have too much trouble as a man, either. Maybe not the same kind of attention or as blatant, but still nice. As a man, I still think it's a great turn on to have a flaming fag proposition me even as it is for the greatest looking secretary to do it. The same holds as a woman. It's also great to get fucked just like it's great to get some wonderful body into bed and put it in her.

I don't know what kind of a grade I'm getting for my answers, but I think I'm pretty well adjusted, both in my new persona and my old. Maybe the question that showed me best what I really felt was the last one he asked.

"Amy? How would you feel if, right now, someone came in and told you you had to get a haircut and dress like a man from now on?"

This one isn't intellectual. It is physical. It almost makes me sick to my stomach. Just the thought. Always forced to be a man. I would be devastated. It would be the greatest loss of my life. The only thing that saves me from a bout of tears is the sure knowledge that no one in the world could force me to do that. No one.

"I can never go back to just that. Never, ever," I tell him.

"Okay," he says. "What if someone told you that you have to sell every suit and tie, pair of wingtips, and pair of men's underwear you own and never buy any again."

I grin immediately, knowing the answer incontrovertibly. "I don't want to be limited, Arkady. But if that was absolutely the way it was, it really wouldn't bother me very much."

"Amy," he says. "When I asked the first question, you went pale and almost looked sick. Yet when I asked the second, you just smiled. Was it because you had been warned by the first question or that it really doesn't matter? What you may very well be losing?"

"It really doesn't matter, Arkady. I just realized it. I could survive without ever putting on another male outfit. But I couldn't stop what I am." I look at him. "I mean, what I am now."

"Okay. I want to try one more thing." He moves to the middle of the room in front of me, standing so I have to look up at him. "Mike," he says and, for some reason, it shakes me. Until a few weeks ago, that was my name and now I hardly recognize it.

"I want you to look directly at me. Forget what you look like and what you're wearing. Sit back in the chair and look directly at me. Okay. Now cross your legs. No. Your ankle on your knee. That's the way a man crosses his legs. That's it." He's just looking into my eyes.

"Mike. Think back to when you were courting Linda. Remember how masculine her little blond body made you feel. Think of the way you put your arms around her. Opening doors for her. Remember?"

I'm dislocating. It's strange.

"Remember the pride in your job. Your conquests. Your secretary letting you put your hand in her panties that time. Remember?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Feel how hard you're getting just thinking about it. Now what about that time you and the guys went out and hid in the alley while Melanie Fritsh undressed in her open bedroom window. Remember the feelings?"

"Yeah. God, she was hot."

"Right! And remember dancing with her at the high school prom. How you held her close to you while you danced, your hand in her back pushing her big tits into your chest. Remember that?"

"Of course." Peripherally, I realize I'm sitting here with my hands clasped across my stomach and my ankle bouncing over my knee. He steps close to me, making me turn my head up to him still more as he puts his hands on the arms of the chair.

"Now, keep looking right in my eyes. Don't look anywhere else. Understood, Mike?"

"Okay," I say. He moves but, as he told me, I'm looking at his eyes fixedly.

I feel him touch me but it seems alien. When he suddenly pinches hard enough to grit his teeth, it draws me like a stretched rubber band back to myself. I look down at his fingers where they painfully hold my nipples.

"Oww!" I scream as my hands go to his to stop him. When I look down at myself, it is a major dislocation. My stocking covered legs are strangely crossed with my ankle on the top of my knee and my legs spread widely -- unladylike to say the least, even though my short skirt is long enough to fall between my legs. He releases my nipples.

I feel something akin to vertigo as I look down at my body from the perspective I had gained during his moments of talk. But, almost as if I were falling, I drop back into my new persona. My legs cross properly at the knees and my hands cup my breasts protectively. He moves back to his normal place behind his desk, looking at me.

"What did you feel, Mike?" he says but, now, it almost doesn't register.

"Amy," I demand flatly. "I felt like I was sort of floating in my old memories of myself. As I was, I guess. Then you brought me back and I immediately ... regained myself? Is that the right way to say that?"

He nods. "When you came back to yourself, what did you feel? What did you think about in that second or two?"

"I thought that I was sitting wrong. That was first besides the pain, of course. Then I thought that you shouldn't have felt free to touch me, let alone pinch me like that."

"So you felt your inappropriate posture and then you felt my inappropriate actions? Is that right?"

"Yes. I guess so. Yeah."

"Okay," he says, closing his notebook as he does every session when we're finished.

"Aren't you going to tell me what you learned from that?" He looks at his hands before he clasps them in front of his chest.

"Very well. First, we both know that there is a lot of 'Mike' in there still. You recognize that." I nod. "That's natural. Some things, like the way a man sits, are somewhat ingrained. You have, after all, been doing that for a long time.

"However, a man confronted with the pain I inflicted on you would have reacted very directly and probably very strongly. First, men don't like to be touched. Americans, at least. So I would have expected a frown from you. Instead, you reacted with surprise. I would have expected some physical reaction on your part like striking out. You didn't do that. In fact, you reacted in a fairly feminine manner. Protective, of course, but not violent.

"Essentially, I think you may have a larger amount of feminine traits than even an extended course of female hormones can explain. I believe, in sum, that you are actually ready for the completion of the life changes you have been contemplating."

"I'm ready?" I ask.

"I think so. Of course, there will be some adjustment problems after the change, the surgery, and I expect you will need to consult me for some time to come. However, there seems to be nothing psychological in the way of your proposed change."

I smile and nod before getting up to leave. "Thank you, doctor," I say, offering my hand. He stands, as he would with any woman and most men, I'd suppose. But, unexpectedly, he kisses my hand as he holds it.

"I think you're going to make an absolutely marvelous woman, Amy. I truly do." He smiles broadly in response to my ear to ear grin.

When I get home fifteen minutes later, I call Carol and tell her what the doctor said.

"I've been expecting this about any time. What do you say we schedule your surgery for ... let's see. How about day after tomorrow. That'll require you to be at the hospital at about seven tomorrow night. Is that okay?"

I swallow roughly. My mouth has suddenly totally dried up.

"Amy? Does that sound okay?"

"Ah, yeah. Fine, I guess."

"Not getting cold feet are you? Want to change your mind?" she asks.

"No. I don't want to change my mind. It's just ... well, you know. All of a sudden."

"You've been working on this for almost six months," she says.

"Yes. Of course. I'm ready and we might as well do it right away.

"Whoa. You look like you've seen a ghost," Linda says an hour later when she comes in. "What happened?"

"Arkady told me today that I'm ready for the surgery."

"Great!" she says with a smile. "That's what you've been waiting for right? Now Carol can schedule the surgery."

"Yeah. I go to the hospital tomorrow evening," I say. Her face falls.

"Tomorrow? Already?"

"Yeah. That's sort of how it hit me, too."

"Your last night," she says then.

"Well, last night as a man."

"That's what I meant." She seems to think for a minute before she speaks again. "If it were my last night as a woman, I'd want to do everything that I'd never be able to do again."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe go shopping or dancing. Then I'd want you to fuck me until morning."

"Doesn't sound all bad. But I've been dressing as a woman for a long time. I don't think I'd even pass as a man now, with these tits in my way."

"I don't either," she says with a grin.

"Shopping is probably going to be as much or more fun than before the surgery in another couple of weeks."

"Yeah, probably."

"And I've been dancing as a woman for a while, too. That only leaves --"

"Yeah," she says huskily. "This is the last night you'll be able to spend inside me. The last night I'll be able to feel you put your big dick inside me and shoot your come into next week. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yeah. It sure does."

She stands up that very second and, as I watch, pulls her panties off and tosses them in her chair. Then she comes to me and I help her pull my pantyhose off and, not satisfied, undo my skirt and unbutton my blouse as well. She restrains herself for long enough for me to take her clothes the rest of the way off, but for the garter belt and nylons.

We both watch in the well lighted room as she sits on my lap and my dick disappears between her legs. It is tremendously erotic to watch her slowly move up and down on my swollen flesh until I finally release my seed deep inside her and her climax makes her movements wildly erratic for a few minutes.

After a few minutes, her head lying on my shoulder near my ear, she says, "Do you want to go hunting now? Or off to the bar to drink with your buddies?"

"No. I think I'll settle for a blowjob and about a dozen good fucks. What do you say?"

"I say, hold on to your hat, sweetie." She slides down my body until her mouth covers my cock. With my hands in her hair, the night begins in earnest.

Chapter 16

THE WAIT WAS hard. I'd been shaking when I went into the hospital the night before and it wasn't any better this morning. I must have taken 20 nervous pisses between the time they woke me up for the first pills and the time they came with the gurney to haul me off.

Sonny's been like a mother hen since we arrived. It was almost silly letting him set up his camera and then walking to the glass doorway, waiting for him to set up again and then going into my room, waiting for him to setup before talking to my doctor. Carol was a little impatient with the whole thing but understands.

Actually, Carol scared me a little even though we've been through all this a million times in the last few months.

"Don't kid yourself, Amy," she said this morning before they gave me the strong drugs. "This is major surgery and a million minor things and a couple of major ones can happen. This isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I know," I said. "We've talked about it a lot. Remember?"

"Yeah, we have. But I want you to be damned sure of what's going on."

"I understand. Really." Then she left me to stew for another half hour. Great!

Now I'm so fuzzy from the anesthetic, I'm not even sure where I am. They tell me I'm in recovery.

All I remember is Carol, dressed all in green and with a mask, hovering over me telling me everything will be okay. Then the anesthesiologist put the mask over my mouth and nose and told me to breathe deep. I did and here I am.

Sonny comes into the room behind Carol who now has her cap and mask off but still looks completely the professional. His lights are bright as he turns on the camera and my eyes aren't ready for it. I squint. She flashes a look of total hatred at him before she comes to me with a big smile.

"How do you feel, honey?" she says. I nod and fight the cotton balls that seem to be inhabiting my mouth, holding my tongue down. I can't focus my eyes very well. I mumble something. "It's okay. You don't have to say a thing. Just relax for a while and pretty soon we'll take you off to your room to sleep."

"How?" I mumble out. She smiles and nods to me that I don't have to say anything else.

"You're fine. The surgery went beautifully. I think you'll be pleased." I nod and fall asleep again.

I wake up again and look around. It's like no time at all has passed. Everything's just the same except Sonny and Carol are talking across the room. Carol sees that I'm awake and comes to me again.

"Feeling better?"

I do and nod. "Yeah," I croak. "Is my throat supposed to be this dry?"

"Yeah. It's normal. A side effect of the anesthetic. Try a little water?"

"I'd love to."

She holds a bottle with a curved glass straw in the top of it. I suck on the straw and get a shot of water. It tastes very strange and I grimace.

"And that's the taste of the anesthetic." She looks into my eyes, takes my pulse, and generally does some doctor things before she looks in my face again. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay now, I think. No races yet but I'm okay." She nods.

"What say we get you down to a more comfortable bed then?" I nod. That's really all I'm interested in doing right now. Sleep.

The bright lights go off and Sonny comes to my side while the nurse and Carol go to the other side of the room for a gurney.

"You okay, baby?" he asks. I nod again.

"How was it? Get a lot of pictures?"

"Yeah. Great. But I sure hated to see all that nice ripe meat going to waste. Besides, it was a little bloody and Doctor Hyde there doesn't think that part is family fare. Private pictures maybe. I've got my ways." He winked and got out of the way.

Now I was awake and tried to help as they moved me to the gurney, pulled the wires off my chest, and took me down to my room after a short elevator ride. They again lifted me up, insisting that I just lay there and not help, and into my bed. It seemed all different from just a little while ago when I left.

"What can I expect now, Carol?"

"Oh, you'll probably have irresistible urges to watch soap operas all day." I laughed with her and the nurse.

"Really. What now?"

"Well. Now you'll stick around for the rest of the day and tonight. Probably tomorrow, too. Then we'll see about getting you a wheelchair, rolling you down to your car, and Linda can watch you for a few days."

"I've gotta take a piss. What now?"

"Go ahead. You've got a catheter placed and will for a couple of weeks. At least until the bandages come off. No doubt you'll be as ready as most of my patients are to get rid of that. Other than that, it's going to be just a matter of keeping from getting too bored while you sit around and heal."

"God, Carol. It feels like somebody kicked my balls all the way up to my bellybutton."

"Yeah, that's what I've heard. If you need it, we can increase your pain pills a little. But this is just part of the game. And pretty soon, that'll go away."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll try to tough it out."

"Good girl."

Humm, I think. I don't think anyone ever said that before and really meant it.

"Okay. So what have you been feeling?"

"Terminally bored!" I almost scream.

"That's a good sign. So are you ready to get off your duff and start doing some work?"

"Yeah, but it's just a little hard."

"I know. And we're going to do something about that right now."

Carol had changed the bandage (everyone called it my diaper) the night of the surgery and again in the morning. Then the nurse did it in the afternoon and again the next morning before I was released. Sonny said it was his kind of diaper since it didn't have a back side to it but only covered the space on my front and between my legs so I could take a shit.

While I again lay in the stirrups on my back, she cut off the bandages and then talked to me while the nurse spent an inordinate amount of time with a washrag between my legs. I smelled nasty and I hated it a lot but there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do about it.

"Are you ready to graduate to some training pants?" she said.

"I'd give anything. Does that mean I can lose that bandage and take a piss on my own?"

"That's what it means," she says with a smile. "And I get to tell you how to do that."

I nodded, knowing I probably wasn't going to like this any more than a lot of things that had happened to me in recent days.

"You already know the old urinal is out now, right?"

I grin.

"Okay. But for a couple of days, you have to be very careful about your eliminations. You bend over forward as far as you can and then go. It'll probably sting like fire at first but that'll go away pretty soon. It may be pretty messy too. Then you have to make very sure you're as clean as possible. No drips. Okay?" I nod. "Then put this nice sticky salve all over afterwards."

"That means no beer busts, huh?"

"I'd say not for a while," she grins. "Then next week you come back here and we'll do some more tests. See how we did. Okay?"

Again I nod. She gives me some plastic panties with thick padding that looks more like a diaper than anything before. The nurse helps me get dressed and again I'm in my wheelchair.

"No experimentation," she states flatly. "Keep your dirty fingers away from the whole area." I wonder if she can read my mind.

"Okay," she says. "I guess this week has gone all right or you'd have called. Right?"

"Right. Everything's okay. I'm just real tired of paste all over my lower half and wearing diapers full time. Oh, and riding around in this cripple's motorcycle." I point at the wheelchair.

"Well. Depending on what we see today, that may all be over. What do you think of that?"

"Thank god," I moan.

"Okay. Then back in the saddle, sweetie," she says, motioning to the stirrups again. I moan but get on the table gingerly and lay back in the stirrups.

Carol watches between my legs (with the ever present camera on Sonny's shoulder) as the nurse once again painstakingly cleans me up like a baby. Carol puts on her rubber gloves and puts KY jelly on her finger. Again, I think as she pushes into my asshole. She prods around for a long time, then nods and grunts.

"Okay. Lets take a look at the front now." Her fingers press and prod at the conjunction of my legs. It's not unpleasant but the furthest stretch of the imagination couldn't make it fun either. She's rough. "Now inside. If it hurts anywhere I touch I want you to tell me immediately."

She's changed gloves and redone the KY jelly now. Her finger goes between my legs and I feel a new sensation. I know her finger is inside me and it feels ... weird. Really weird. Not unpleasant. Just weird. There's no pain anywhere she touches even when she presses firmly in all directions. The pressure on my bladder from somewhere deep inside me is the closest.

"No pain?" I shake my head. "None at all?"

"No. It's okay."

"Great! Okay, then. Let's see if there are any nerves connected here." I can kind of watch her fingers as they move further up my front, still between my legs. This too feels weird. But this is definitely pleasant.

"Mmmm. I could get to like that," I moan.

"Yeah. That's the idea. If everything works --" She prods a little higher. "-- right here should feel real good pretty soon." I cringe to the touch.

"Oh. It feels good right now. It's like ... I don't know. Like you're rubbing the sensitive part of my dick. The head, you know?"

"Yeah. That's what it should feel like in a way at least." She stops but now I can feel the sensitive buds of my hardened nipples against the inside of my paper nightgown.

"Are you going to give me my first orgasm, Carol?" I ask seriously.

"Maybe. But that'll have to wait a couple of weeks, I think," she grins. "For now we're just happy there's feeling and that it's not the feeling of abject pain from an infection."

"I guess I'll settle for that, for the moment," I say.

"Don't go experimenting yet. A little more healing and everything's going to be just fine. Okay?"

"Sure," I say. "A couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks." She pulls off the glove and comes back to me while the nurse again cleans me up. "Okay. Everything looks great. Better even than I expected. But for now just keep hands off. Yours and everyone else's. Keep it scrupulously clean. Try to stay off your feet as much as possible though you need to start doing some leg lifts to build up some tummy muscles."

She offers me a hand and I take it to turn around on the examining table.

"Two more weeks?"

"Two weeks. Then we'll see."

Her fingers, two I think, are deep inside of me moving around to all sides. This time it doesn't seem to feel a thing like it did the last time. Now it actually feels good. Last time it wasn't painful, but it wasn't fun either.

"And this? Can you feel this?"

"Yeah," I moan. "It feels good."

"Okay." She renews the KY jelly on her fingers and then puts them on the outside between my legs. "Now we'll learn the extent of my brilliance."

I can feel her fingers rubbing me like she was rubbing my dick in a distant way. But she seems to be concentrating on the most sensitive spots of the head. Of course, when I look down I can't see anything for her to rub. But it's certainly working.

"Oh!" I moan. "Ah. Do you mean to do that?"

"What's that?"

"I think you could make me cum that way."

"I certainly hope so. That's exactly what I'm trying to see." I lay there and moan some more. God it feels good. Wonderful. "Let it go, if it can happen."

I close my eyes and feel the feelings. The nurse is staring between my legs with a little grin. Sonny's cameras cover his face but I heard his snigger a minute ago.

It's almost like someone was beating me off but different. Wonderful. Oh. I'm moaning and I can't stop myself. Then it hits me all over.

"Oh, shit. Oh, ahhh. Ohhhhhhh!" I moan as a true climax wracks my body from top to bottom. I feel spasms throughout my body until I can hardly keep my feet in the silly stirrups that keep my legs spread. As the majority of it passes, I feel it more as a pain there now. I put my hands to the back of hers before I look at her.

Her smile spreads from cheek to cheek. God she's proud of herself.

"Fantastic," she cries as she again strips off the glove and tosses it in a garbage can. "Perfect. I wasn't sure. But I think I am now. That was a climax, wasn't it?"

I grin back at her and nod my head. "It sure as hell was."

"You could feel my fingers inside you, too, couldn't you?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I could. It felt good."

"Great! That's the idea." She stands beside me and puts her hand on my stomach. "My dear? I think I can now declare you a perfectly normal ... female."

Then she raises a cautionary finger.

"Not quite. Your body will never produce the necessary lubricants for sex or, probably, even to stay comfortable for the day. I'd plan on keeping a tube of KY jelly with you all the time."

"You think I'm going to have that much chance for sex?"

"That's up to you. No you'll need it just so you don't get chafed down there from walking, etcetera." I nod.

"Maybe from sex," I moan.

"I wish you luck," she grins. "I wish you luck."

"So what are my limitations? Should I stay away from well hung studs?"

"Up to you," she said. "But I built in plenty of room for you. Probably more than necessary but I'm sure, somewhere out there, there's a guy who could hit bottom."

"It almost sounds like a challenge to look for him," I say.

Chapter 17

"GOD, IT'S WONDERFUL," I think as I walk out of the doctor's office and down the street with a brisk click to my high heels. "I'm truly a woman! Fully! Completely! Totally!"

I actually skip as I walk, my arms swing and my unbound breasts bob with my steps. My skirt swirls around my thighs as I place my feet directly in front of each other as I walk and swing my hips. My smile stretches from ear to ear, I'm sure. I've never been so happy.

The doctor's appointment had been wonderful. Everything works and the pain has passed completely. And my first orgasm as a full-fledged woman.

Like a teenager looking forward to his initiation to sex stopping for a condom, I'd stopped at the clinic pharmacy and bought a tube of KY jelly to slip into my purse. Tonight Bill was taking Linda and me out to celebrate and I could hardly wait.

I turn into the broad entrance to the park and swing around to look at the beautiful trees, the distant lake, and the green, green grass. The cool air feels good under the short skirt. I unbutton another of the top buttons, now down to a point between my ample breasts. The surgery seems to have spurred another surge of growth there and I'm now straining at my C-cup bras. That's one of the reasons why I'm not wearing one now. As if I needed a reason.

Far across the lake I can see a man and two boys working a radio-controlled boat in the smooth water. Otherwise, as far as I can see, I'm alone. I exaggerate my walk still further, swishing my hips broadly to swing my skirt up still higher. High enough, I realize, to show the top of my thigh-hugging stockings. But I don't care. I just feel too wonderful.

"Yeah, baby," the voice says from the trees near the path. "Lookin' good."

I don't slow as I walk on down the walkway, my smile broadening. The kid is kind of cute in a street tough sort of way.

"I'll say," another voice says from a tree on the other side of the path. "Nice tits."

"Nice ass," the first voice says from directly behind me.

"Yeah, nice ass. And legs." The boy in front of me now is another street tough in bulging white tee-shirt and worn jeans. He stands insolently in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, swing it for us some more, baby," the one behind me says. "I liked that before."

"Yeah, swing it."

Even these smart asses can't ruin my mood. Still smiling, I round the guy in front of me, turn, and wave back at them. The two of them run up beside me, on either side, and chatter on about how good I look and how they like to watch me. Following the path, they accompany me until we are out of sight of the lake, somewhere near the center of the park.

"Hey, tell you what, sweet thing," the more daring leader says from my right side. "I'd like to see more. I really would. I mean, I like what I see. But there just must be more to it all. You know?"

I think I do.

"Yeah, me too," the other boy says. "I'd like to see more, too."

"Sorry guys," I say. "What you see is it." I keep walking. Then the leader caresses my arm and, startled, I shy away. I bump into the other boy who is close beside me on the left.

"No need for that, baby. We're not going to hurt you. No shit."

"Yeah," the second boy says dully. This boy's hand closes around my biceps. I stop and glare at him and he instinctively pulls back his hand. Unfortunately, the leader takes this opportunity to put his arm around my waist rather roughly and pushes me off the pathway. The second boy braves up now and renews his hold on my biceps.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just follow us and we'll show you a few things you haven't learned yet."

I tried to set my heels but, after a quick stop, they push me on more roughly. In another five steps, we are in the depth of the trees. I struggle but I've lost the initiative. They stop in another few steps and the leader exchanges his hold around my waist to hold both my wrists behind me.

"Here," he says. "Hold on like this. Right?" The second boy dumbly takes my wrists then, holding tightly. The leader, relieved of his hold, rounds me then to stand, insolent again, in front of me, looking me up and down.

"Nice," he says. "And I like that dress. It's so --" I didn't like the look in his eyes. "-- It's so easy."

His hand comes toward me and slowly begins unbuttoning the front of my dress. As he does, his grin broadens. I look down and see the expanse of skin he's exposed between my breasts, then across my stomach, then at my waist. I try to get my wrists back but the boy has them firmly in spite of his sweaty palms.

"Hmm, pink," he says as he unbuttons the dress below my waist. "Little." All the buttons are undone.

He rubs his hands together and, merely as a reaction, I squirm away and my purse falls off my shoulder. What great timing! The strap drops to my elbow where it catches and pulls itself open under the strain of the drop. On top, of course, I my newly purchased tube of KY jelly.

"Haw," the boy says with a mock laugh. "Look at this! This is that slippery juice stuff for having better sex. She's all ready for us, I guess." He rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Now let's see what we've got here."

Even though I turn away, or at least try, he gets both hands into the opening of the unbuttoned dress and pushes the sides apart over my breasts. I feel humiliatingly exposed to his view as his eyes get wide and his mouth shapes to an O.

"Whoa!" he exclaims. "Look at that! What a great lookin' set of tits!"

"Ah, shit, Billy. I wanna see, too."

"Yeah. Well. In a few minutes." He edges the sides of my open dress off the points of my shoulders and it falls to the crooks of my elbows.

He reaches out and takes one breast in each hand, holding them beneath for a moment, just looking. Then his hands enfold first one and then the other. Kneading and stroking gently for a moment. Then his fingers find my nipples and rub them and roll them between fingers and thumbs. It sends sensations throughout my body.

"Don't want to get too diverted here," he says, letting them go. "Got to see the rest here."

His hand goes to his pocket and comes out with the black handle of a switchblade knife. He keys it and the blade snaps forward toward me as my breath flees.

"No. Please," I moan.

"Naw. Don't worry. I just want to get rid of these things." The sharp blade trails along my exposed skin over my hip and the tip dips down into the waistband of my panties. A flick of his wrist separates it. A repeat over the other hip releases the material though it is lightweight enough to stick to my sweaty skin on my tummy and between my legs and, I think, the cheeks of my ass.

He presses the button on the knife again and, as quickly as it appeared, the blade disappears back into the black handle, the handle into his pants pocket.

"Now let's see what we have here," he says, reaching for the dangling material and slowly peeling it off my front. "Ahh. It's shaved clean. We got us a hot little bitch here."

"I ... I just had surgery," I say.

"Oh. What for? Gettin' rid of all the hair?"

"No." I shut up and decide not to say anything more.

His finger goes down between my legs and I try to hold them tightly together.

"Spread out there, baby," he says and kicks the inside of my shoe. His tennie sole cracks against my ankle bone and stings sharply. It's also hard enough to make me step outward with one leg to catch myself. "Better. Yeah."

Now his hand goes between my spread legs and instantly a finger finds my new hole.

"Hmm. Hot. But you're just drier than a bone. Guess that must be why you have the slippery juice, huh?"

I watch as he opens the tube and, lewdly holding out his middle finger, squeezes the KY jelly onto it in a stream from his palm to a large glob on the end of his finger. He looks me in the eye to see my reaction and grins at my disgust.

"Mmmm, good," he says with a chuckle. "Just like the real stuff, huh? Let's see if it works."

His finger lowers back between my legs and into me. He's rough but the lubricating jelly makes it hard for him to make it too uncomfortable. I find myself lifting one leg slightly to keep him from rubbing his thumb into the crease in my leg.

"Yeah," he almost sighs. "She likes that shit! Look at her. Like a big puppy dog getting its tummy rubbed. And look at this!" I wonder what now and open my eyes to look down at myself. He's looking between my legs. "Big ol' clit! Shit! Look at that."

He rubs it roughly but the lubricating jelly doesn't even let that hurt. In fact, it feels wonderful. That, of course, is enough to make him stop right away. Frustrating. "Shit!" I hear myself say.

"Oh, don't worry, baby. We'll finish up what we started. But I want a little of that stuff." I'm not sure if he means the jelly or exactly what. But I think maybe he means me. It's rather flattering in a nasty sort of way. Looking around quickly, he unzips and unbuttons and, in a second, he's standing there in front of me with his swollen cock in his hand. "Yeah. That's what you need isn't it, sweet thing?"

Looking around behind him, he picks out a piece of ground and lays down on his back with his dick in the air.

"Com'mon. Bring her over here onto this big hunk of meat." The kid behind me chuckles and pushes me toward him. It's a terrible temptation to just give it a swift kick but I have a feeling that switchblade would be right back out again if I did that.

"That's it," he says as I straddle his hips. "Push her down here. Right on it."

The kid behind me pulls down on my arms but it really doesn't have the desired effect. I wouldn't have to bend my knees. But then he does like we used to in high school to someone unsuspecting and bends his own knees into the back of mine. This works for him and his weight pulls me down. I resist just enough to keep from hurting my knees when they contact the grass.

The guy on the ground holds onto his dick and guides it toward me. I can feel it at my new portal. Then the other boy pushes down on my shoulders and I feel it embed itself deep inside me.

"Ahh," I hear. I think it's me.

"You like that, don't ya. Yeah. That's it. Yeah. Now move some."

"Hey, Billy. I ain't even got to see yet. And I want some, too!" the other boy says.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. Just hang on." Then he stops the insistent movement between my legs. "No. Wait. You know that KY shit. That's what the doctor uses to put his finger up your butt, you know? I'll bet you could use it to get in her that way."

"No," I say reflexively, trying to rise and turn away from these two.

"Yeah! Okay!" the boy says behind me.

"Here. I'll hold her hands while you get ready." They exchange holds on my wrists and I hear the other boy stripping off his pants behind me. "Here's the KY, man. Get it good and greased up."

My dress is tossed up over my back then and I feel the cold lubricant being squeezed onto my behind in the cleft of my cheeks.

"No, please," I say but no one is listening.

I feel something rubbing around in the lubricant and then pressing against my asshole. I've been taken this way before but I don't like being forced. Particularly knowing that they aren't doing it for my pleasure but only for their own. I clench my ass tightly, grimacing with the effort, as I feel him probing at my backside.

He pushes me forward somewhat and the guy below me changes his grip on my wrists to hold me further bent. His arms go around my back, encapsulating my arms inside his hug.

"That's it," the boy behind says. "Yeah. I can get it in now."

I feel his thumbs pulling my asscheeks apart and again he's probing me. Painfully, I feel his head opening my little sphincter slowly as he pushes very hard. I can't withstand him and, to keep it from hurting more than necessary, I relax the muscle as much as I can.

I feel him slide into me as he moans. "Oh, yeah. That's great! Tight!"

"Well, get it in there, asshole," Billy says impatiently. The boy pushes until I feel the front of his legs against my ass. He almost pushes me off of Billy. He hunches upward into me and, for the first time, I feel something filling both my holes completely. What a feeling! I have to pant to catch my breath.

Peeling my eyes open, I look down into the grinning face of Billy about two inches from my nose. He starts moving inside me and I bite my lip with the feel of it. His grin broadens. Then the boy behind me pulls out of my ass a long way and comes back into me. My mouth opens with the intense feel of it and my eyes go out of focus.

His arms unwrap from my back and I have my hands again for the first time in a long time. I put my hands on the grass to either side of Billy's shoulders at arm length, essentially on all fours, and start to move with their conflicting movements. When I do, I feel Billy's hands on my swollen breasts.

"Ahh." I'm sure that was me. "Ahh. Ohh. Yes."

I open my eyes again and look down at Billy's grimace, his smile now splitting his face as he feels the intensity of our joining. His eyes are closed. Impulsively, I lower my mouth to his, my tongue probing into him. One of his hands leaves my breast, though the other stays, and comes to the back of my head. He holds my mouth to his and pushes his tongue to the back of my throat. I suck on it as I feel my orgasm nearing.

I'm moving between the two cocks as hard and fast as I can now, sucking at his long tongue almost as if it were still another one. I can hear the squishing between my legs and feel the saliva that covers my lips and lubricates his mouth. I moan into his mouth as my orgasm comes powerfully and my entire body clenches with it.

Like long time lovers, my orgasm triggers Billy's and, for the first time, I feel a man's come pour into my new cunt. And then the other boy's climax hits and, with a series of grunts, he deposits his seed into my bowels.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck," he moans as we squeeze the last of his climax from his body. Billy's tongue slowly retreats from my mouth and with a little additional kiss, I raise up onto my extended arms again.

"If you'd asked," I say, "I'd probably have done it with you. But this was sort of different."

"Fuck you, honey. You loved it," he says with a silly grin.

"Yeah. Well." I grin at him. "You gonna lick me clean now so I don't drip all the way home?"

"Fuck, no!" he yells, still grinning. He's squirming to get out from under me now. I feel the boy behind me slide out of my ass and roll onto the grass beside us.

"You?" I ask. He looks at Billy who only grins at him. I lift myself off Billy's soft cock and crawl off him sideways, toward the other boy. Catching his wrists, I move up until my legs are holding his arms down. Then I lower my middle to his twisting face.

Billy is laughing so hard he can't stay still beside me as I rub my ass and cunt in the boy's face roughly.

"I'll let you breathe if you lick it clean," I say to him as I sit on his mouth and nose. I feel him nod quickly and lift up.

"Okay," he says breathlessly. When I lower most of the way toward him this time, he bends his neck and begins licking from between my legs to my still swollen clit. He's lapping up the come that is oozing out of me. And at the same time, he's driving me upward into another orgasm.

When his tongue protrudes and opens my recently punctured asshole, my climax hits me powerfully and I feel my body spasming around the volumes of come that cascade out of my holes and onto his face.

"God damn, you're a hot bitch," Billy says from next to me on the ground. When I look at him, his eyes are big and his mouth is open.

"Yeah. All woman, right?"

"Right," the boy below me says with a wide grin. I lean down and kiss him hard on the lips with my hands on both of his sweet little cheeks.

I love it. I'm really a woman!

Chapter 18

I WAS A little sore, a lot flushed, and late getting home. Linda met me with, "Did you have problems?" There was real concern in her voice. I could only smile. "Oh, I was just double raped," I thought to myself but kept it there.

"No, huh uh. I just took the scenic route home."

"How was the doctor's then?" Still concern.

I remembered all that was new to her though it was at least once removed for me.

"Great!"

"Well, tell me!"

"Sure. Well. She checked everything out." I remembered. "Thoroughly. It's a total success, Linda." I smiled.

"Really?" She grinned then looked serious again. "A success? What does that mean exactly?"

"It means that she tested everything she could test and it all works."

"You can't have babies."

"No, of course not. That was never part of the deal. I don't have the eggs or the fallopian tubes. You know that. I also don't have the tiny lubrication glands." I thought about pulling out my tube of KY jelly and decided that would only require an explanation as to why it was half used. "What I do have is a more than ample pussy and a fully functioning clitoris."

"How do you know that?" I wasn't quite ready to share all with her so I sidestepped. Backtracked really to the doctor's office.

"She took measurements and said I was deep enough to accommodate anyone I wanted."

"Clit," she stated. "How does she know --"

"Oh, there are ways." I grinned.

"You mean --"

"Yeah. I mean. She played with me and I had my first female orgasm."

"Really?" She was smiling all over with excitement. "You had a come?" I nodded with an answering grin. "What did it feel like? I mean was it like before? Like as a guy?"

"Maybe a little. Maybe more intense. Really just a little painful still. But satisfying." She clapped her hands and swung around in a little circle as she cried out. "Better. She also played with my nipples and I had a climax that way, too. I mean, I've sort of done that before but I felt it all over this time. It was great!"

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Oh, wait," she said seriously again as she looked at her watch. "Bill will be here to pick us up in less than an hour. We've got to get on the ball. Come on!"

I followed her to the bedroom and watched as she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, her breasts flopping on her chest appealingly. Then she squiggled out of her shorts and panties with her back to me. She is fantastically appealing when she's naked ... and when she's dressed.

I walked to her then and put my arms around her from behind, holding her against me. "I'm going to have trouble breaking this habit," I sighed into her ear.

"Who said you had to? I sort of have a thing for you, too." My hands were cupping her breasts, massaging them as her hands worked to remove them. "But we've got to get ready. Com'mon. I'll start the shower."

I was glad she went ahead so I didn't have to explain where my panties were. I stepped out of my shoes before unfastening my skirt and blouse. They smelled like sex and I noticed the spots on my skirt and nylons. I even had grass stains on my blouse. Damn.

On my way by, I dropped them all in the hamper. I'd get around to telling Linda about the afternoon before she or I did the wash. Naked, I walked into the bathroom and opened the steaming door of the shower to join her. She had soap in her hair and all over her face, her eyes clenched shut. I massaged her scalp and then took the soap on my hands to the juncture of her legs, rubbing it in there. She squirmed out of my reach though her nipples instantly swelled to their maximum.

I started scrubbing my own body, though I would have rather done hers and, when my hands were above my head and the soap in my eyes, I felt her fingers find my nipple and more fingers find my clit. I cringed and giggled and squirmed out of her reach just as she had to me.

She got out and was dry and combing out her wet hair as I got out and did the same thing. She was back in the bedroom by the time I'd cleared out all the rats my shampooing had created.

When I got in the other room, she was standing in a pair of thigh high stockings, black lace panties, and high heels and working with some clothes on hangers.

"Bill sent us some more clothes," she said. "I think they're hot off the presses in France. Top designers. Probably more than the hundred and fifty bucks I'm used to paying, I'll bet."

"No doubt," I said.

"Here's yours. It has your name on it even." I nodded and watched her squirm into a very tight sheath dress that topped under her arms and hugged her shape to her mid-thighs.

"You ought to forget the panties," I suggested.

"Oh, no. If I do that, I'll have this thing wet either in the front or back all night." It was a pretty dark blue material that, I thought, would turn black anywhere it got wet. I agreed with her.

"Yeah, well. What's wrong with that?" We giggled again.

"You've got to wear pantyhose with your dress, baby," she said. "There's not enough skirt if you don't."

I looked at the pile of clothing without understanding. Then I picked it up and saw what she meant. I went to the drawer and found a pair of pantyhose but then put them away and found the sheerest pair I had. I knew, though I would be covered, they wouldn't really prevent a view of anything. I sat on the edge of the bed and threaded them onto my legs.

Then I took the dress off the hanger and unzipped the three inches of zipper at the back. Even this, I thought, probably would be under my butt. I stepped into it and pulled it up. Literally, the front veed open in the center to below my waist. Two straps, starting wide and narrowing, went up and around the back of my neck where they snapped together solidly. The little zipper, when done up, came up to about two inches below my waist in back.

If there had been more than about a square foot of the whole dress, it would have weighed a ton. As it was, it weighed ounces and covered everywhere with shining jewels. If one was real, this was a very expensive dress. If they were all real, it was worth a fortune. Most were light blue -- maybe sapphires but I hoped for glass so I wouldn't have to watch all of them all night.

It was lined with silk and the jewels were flat. Otherwise this would be an exceptionally uncomfortable thing to wear. This skirt was just long enough to provide minimal cover as long as I stayed standing. The second I sat down, it would cover nothing. The straps covered my nipples and the surround areolas but damned little else. Only the weight of the jewels held it down and in place. The hipline was tight enough to clasp my body completely -- at least from the middle of my tummy to my pussy, top of my ass crack to my asshole. Not a hell of a lot more.

Sensuously, the rest of the outer skirt was a misty sort of material I think is usually used by belly dancers doing the dance of the seven veils. There, but only a suggestion. I walked across the room to find a pair of shoes and the thing billowed behind me like a magic carpet. And that fastened to little fasteners at the sides of my hips. It covered nothing in front and draped almost to the hem of the underskirt in back. It just pointed out how short the underskirt was.

I picked a pair of patent blue sling pumps with 4-inch heels to go with it.

"What do you think for jewelry, Linda?" I asked. I looked down. I glittered everywhere.

"It looks to me that the only thing that would work would be the Hope Diamond on about a three foot long chain. Let it dangle over your bellybutton," she said with a grin. Grinning back I looked in the jewelry box and found a ruby Bill had given me that was about an inch across on a chain that let it dangle right between my breasts.

"Like that?" She laughed.

"That's it exactly. With the earrings. Right?"

I got them out, too. They were on chains about two inches long and the rubies were only half as big as the one between my breasts. Matching, I suppose. Since the set came with an ankle bracelet with an equal sized ruby on it, I put it on as well.

"I'll make drinks," I said as I walked to the living room and she continued brushing out her hair. God it looked fabulous when it was squeaky clean, like it was now, and flowed over her shoulders and onto her back. She was making it frame her face like a lion's mane and it looked incredibly sexy.

My own had dried now into its wild look that just fit the outfit. I looked at it and left it alone.

I finished mixing our drinks and looked at myself in the hallway mirror. What man could get away with shiny blue shoes, sparkling jeweled clothes and filaments of material around his legs, blue tinged eyes, red lips, and a halo of curly hair? I hated to say it myself but, God I'm beautiful! Really! As an ex-man, I know. I'd fuck me in a minute.

That thought, probably an unfortunate one, gave me an itch between my legs I'd thought I'd overcome for a while.

"Good grief, Amy," I said aloud to myself. "Are you going to have to get laid every hour on the hour?" Maybe, I thought with a smile.

"It sure looks like you're ready to in that outfit," Linda said from beside me.

"Look who's talking," I grinned as I handed her her drink and stepped aside so she could look at herself. She blushed as she did it, recognizing, I'm sure, that what I'd said was true.

The doorbell rang and both of us almost jumped out of our skins though Linda, staring into the mirror at herself, was the only one to spill her drink. Standing only a foot away from the door, I turned and opened it.

Bill stood with a bundle of flowers in his hand and a big smile on his face. The smile dropped with his chin as his eyes scanned my body from my eyes, where they had started, downward past the dangling jewel to the hem of my underskirt to my ankles. It was almost frightening.

"Hi! Come in!" I said brightly, feeling myself blush.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Hi." He didn't move. Now it was just very flattering.

Under his scrutiny, I hadn't noticed the man beside him on the steps. "Hi," I said, now including him in my broad inward gesture. His eyes were doing the same thing to me Bill's were. I almost felt violated. "Please come in!" I said with a little edge to my voice. "It's a little chilly tonight."

They both shook themselves and, realizing what they'd been doing, blushed and stepped into the house.

"Hi," Linda said beside me and bent close to Bill to give him a quick kiss. "How's my favorite millionaire?"

"Great!" he exuded. "Fantastic! Better now than all the rest of the day." Now he was getting it together again. "You look unbelievable!" he said to her since her hand was still on his arm. "Both of you. Breathtaking! Really."

"Hi," she said with more aplomb than the rest of us seemed to be showing, as she put her hand out to the other man. "My name's Linda and this is Amy."

"I'm sorry," Bill said, coming out of his trance. "This is Brentwood Klevin Dunsworth the fourth. Better known to his friends as Brent. Brent, this is Linda, ah, Amy's wife. And Amy. The girl I told you about."

The tall, dark-haired man had been watching Bill as he spoke. But when Bill said that, his head swivelled to me as if it had been jerked around with a rope.

"You're --" He gulped. "I mean you were ... ah --"

"Yeah," I laughed and broke the stalemate. "I was the man until two weeks ago. I'm not any more."

"My God!" he exclaimed. "I'll say you're not!"

"Thank you, I think."

He frowned and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Please excuse me. I'm not normally quite as big an idiot as I must seem right now. You just surprised me. I mean --"

"I understand," I said. "Or, at least I hope I understand. Won't you two come the rest of the way in? Can I get you a drink?"

Now Bill came out of it. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he said as he put his hand on my elbow. "I've known you for a while and should have expected it. But, I just didn't. I mean, I've never ever seen anyone look that fabulous in a dress. Stunning."

"I have to agree with that," Brent said.

I bowed slightly at the waist. "Thank you, gentlemen. The dress buyer has very good taste."

"You picked these dresses out, Bill?"

"Yeah. But they didn't look like this on the hangers, I'll tell you."

"I'm sure not." I asked then what they wanted to drink and made each of them before delivering to their hands. Linda had finally herded them to the couch and they sat waiting for me. I sat next to Bill and carefully crossed my legs toward him, trying to keep at least a little of my lap from being on view to everyone. I didn't know if I had any success with Brent who sat directly opposite me in the overstuffed chair.

"I brought Brent along tonight because I was pretty sure I'd need some help with the two of you. Now I know why I did it. To protect myself. The first crowd of guys we come close to are going to club me to death and steal you away."

"Over my dead body," Brent said with a grin.

"Well, I felt fairly confident before. But now that's more than just a little possible. And I think we can write off going to the club. Those stuffed shirts would all have heart attacks. We'll have to plan something else."

We sipped our drinks and talked for a few minutes.

"I've got an idea," Brent said. "There's a fairly new place over in Saxony. I don't remember the name of it but I understand it's very upscale, the entertainment crowd and all, but pretty young and hip. Bill, you and I won't fit in worth a damn but no one is even going to notice we're along. So it doesn't matter."

We all laughed. As we finished our drinks, we got ready to go. Linda took a little clutch bag with both our lipsticks in it, along with a hairbrush and our door key.

The men held our long coats for us and enjoyed the way Linda's nearly naked leg came out of hers almost to the waist with every step. Mine buttoned just above my knees so it was okay.

"Boy is some hat check girl going to get a surprise tonight."

We laughed. "I'm sure they've seen it all before," I said.

"I doubt they've seen this," Bill said. We naturally paired off with Brent guiding Linda to the long black limo in front of us. Bill's hand rested on the slope of my rump as we walked. The driver's eyes followed Linda's legs as she sat down on the back seat and slid across. Brent sat in one of the back-facing seats. I slid in beside Linda and Bill sat next to me.

The door closed and the driver rounded to the steering wheel and turned into the street.

"Alfred? Do you know the new place in Saxony?"

"I've heard of it, sir. I'm sure I can find it."

Brent opened the dropleaf bar front and mixed each of us one of the drinks we had been having in the house. For the next half hour, we chattered like nervous magpies.

"What am I thinking," Bill said then. "You had a doctor's appointment today, didn't you?" I smiled and nodded. "So, how did it come out?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "The doctor certified me."

"Certified you?"

"Yeah." I faked a genuflection in front of me. "I now pronounce you female."

"Really? That's exciting," he stopped, looking at me. "But I thought the minute you hit the operating table, or maybe when you left it, that was certifiable."

"Well, there are the parts that make it a Porsche. But if it doesn't run --"

"You mean she got you all tuned up?" We all laughed.

"Yeah, something like that. At least a short test drive."

"You mean --?"

I nodded and blushed. I could feel it on my face. Both of the men stared at me.

"What'd she do? A few times around the roadtrack to test the top end or just a quick spin around the block." We laughed again.

"Maybe more like having it up on the rack and fiddling with a few controls." We all laughed again. The illusion was getting a little too graphic. "Actually, more like she sat in the seat and said there was more than enough headroom and played with the on switches and everything turned on like its supposed to."

"Really!" Bill said through another burst of laughter. "That's fantastic! You mean it all works like it's supposed to?"

"Just like the production models. Yup." I grinned at his pleasure that I knew was for me.

"Hmmm. Maybe we'll have to take it out for a test drive later."

"We'll have to go slow for the break-in period. But then we can check out the top end."

"Okay, you two," Brent said. "My motor's revving now over a little blue convertible."

"I'm starting to lose what you guys are talking about but I think I'm turned on anyway," Linda said. I saw that she was smiling and staring into Brent's eyes. The look was very sensual and I envied Brent. She licked her lips.

We pulled up in front of a large building and, immediately, the back doors were opened. Brent went out one side and Bill the other. They stood holding out their hands for us to take. I didn't notice Linda, who was behind me getting out, but I had a hard time keeping my coat down reasonably as I slid out. Then I had to spread my legs obscenely to get to the ground. The valet had a smug look on his face as he looked at me and accepted a twenty from Bill.

We walked to the door and a doorman opened it with a smile and slight bow. A fully liveried maitre d' rushed toward us as we walked across the expanse of red carpet in the huge entryway. He clasped his hands together as he stood before us. To the left was a large, wide open bar with short black leather chairs and small, round tables backed by red felt-covered walls and crystal light fixtures that only shed a minimum of light. Everyone seemed to be inspecting us. To the right was a wide door into a chandelier-filled dining room.

"Mr. Dunworth, isn't it?" the maitre d' asked of Brent. He only nodded. "Sir, it will be just a few moments before a table is ready, would you mind waiting in the lounge?"

"No, of course not. We didn't make reservations, after all." He passed the man a bill that looked like another twenty but it might have been larger.

"Thank you, sir. May I help the ladies with their wraps?" We quickly unbuttoned them and Bill grabbed the back of mine as I let it drop off my shoulders. Brent did the same for Linda and both of them put them over the maitre 'd's extended arm. He turned and snapped his finger. A young man, staring at my legs, quickly came to him and took the coats.

I tried to act like it didn't bother me that thirty pairs of eyes were firmly stuck to my legs as I was displayed in the center of the big room. Well, maybe only half the eyes were on my legs. The other half were on Linda's.

The maitre 'd followed us to a table, pulled one chair out, and held one of them for Linda. I couldn't help but be amused as he stared at my legs as I sat down and crossed my knees firmly. God, I could almost see between my legs myself! Certainly, everyone could see the majority of the shapes of my breasts from the swell below them to the way they bounded when I pulled up the chair.

"God, I love this," Brent said beside me. "I could rob the place and no one would be able to identify me. But just basking in you two's glory is enough. I wonder if there's anyone in this room who isn't watching one or the other of you?"

"I doubt it," Bill said from my other side.

A woman bent over between Brent and I, placing napkins on the low table. "What could I get for you?" Brent ordered for us, pointing each of us out with our drink of choice. "Thank you," she said with a nod and smile before leaving. Her outrageous cocktail waitress outfit wasn't as daring as either Linda's or my dress. Of course, she had to work in it. I was glad I didn't have to.

"So, you've been here, Brent?" Bill said.

"No," he said. "I guess the maitre 'd reads the business pages."

"Probably to his advantage," Linda said.

"Yeah. Assuming someone comes through the door every fifteen minutes and gives him what I did, he makes about four hundred dollars an hour. He probably makes more than I do." We all laughed, knowing that wasn't true though I still didn't know him. I liked him as a person but I really had never heard of him.

"Does everyone in the room know what you do except me?" Linda asked quietly.

"Nope," I answered. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry ... again," Bill said. "I should have fully introduced you. Brent is the 'D' in DTM Enterprises. You've heard of them, right?"

In case Linda, for some reason, hadn't, I answered quickly. "Movies, TV, imports, real estate, investments, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

"That's him. Actually, what Brent? The 'T' is for 'takes' and the 'M' is for 'big money?' There really isn't anyone else in his business. Him and a bunch of guys to count the money."

"Actually, about ten years ago, I had partners. Tad Tenson and Jim Mahoney. But they decided we weren't doing well enough and jumped ship. I had to steer on by myself."

"And they come around every couple of weeks and ask for their old jobs back, right?" Linda said with a broad grin.

"No, not really. They did all right." His modesty was pleasant. The last I heard he was in the running for the richest man in the city. Maybe fourth or fifth now but possibly the pundits that make up the lists didn't know all he had. "Anyway," he stated, coming out of his contemplation. "We're here to have a good meal and, later, some good fun. Right? We aren't going to worry about money."

He leaned toward me for agreement that I was more than ready to give. In the process, however, he put his hand on my leg. I guess I wasn't expecting it or, possibly, I'd just never had someone touch me through only a single layer for very sheer nylon. It was almost like an electric shock. I know I reacted to it. I jumped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he retrieved his hand from where it was now poised above my leg.

"No. That's all right," I said quickly. "I guess I just wasn't expecting it or something." God, I could still feel the warm imprint of his palm on the top of my thigh. I'm certainly not used to a casual touch that high on my thigh though, of course, it was all exposed.

"I didn't think. I'm really very sorry."

"No. It's not your fault. I'm just not used to being touched like that."

"Oh, of course," he said as if it were a revelation. "You were a man and no man would touch another on the thigh like that."

"I guess that must be it. And ... well, it's not very well covered and I'm not used to that either." He grinned at me then and relaxed. Then his hand came back down onto my thigh as I watched it. When his hand touched me, it was much like the first time and then he gently squeezed it before removing it again.

"I think you'd better get used to it," he said. "You have very touchable legs." I smiled at the compliment. I couldn't be offended. I glanced at Linda then and saw her grinning at me. Now I was just embarrassed at my reaction. I was relieved when the waitress returned with the drinks and everyone's attention shifted from me and my leg to her.

"It will be on your dinner tab, sir," she said to Brent.

"Thank you."

We all leaned forward and picked up our drinks before sitting back. Brent raised his to the rest of us. "Here's to a pleasant evening," he toasted. We all drank with him.

"So," Bill interjected. "You had your doctor's appointment today and everything works?" I nodded with a smile. I'd said that.

"Every time I hear of a woman going to the doctor," Brent said, "I think of those stirrups and short green covers and shiny instruments they stick in places I don't even have."

"That's about it," I said grinning. "Places I didn't have."

"Now this sounds interesting," Brent said as he drank. "What exactly was the exam?"

"My final exam after the surgery."

"You mean you're all done?" Bill said. Linda opened her mouth to say something as well. Probably the same thing. I hadn't told her.

"Uh huh. All certified. Like I said."

"Fantastic! Then we should be celebrating."

"To a miraculously total success," Brent said, toasting again. We drank and I smiled, trying to cover my blush.

"What did she say? I mean, the muscles, ah, the, ah ... you know."

"Everything's good, she said."

"How would they build a muscle there?" Brent asked. "That has to be an important one. You know." He was making a grasping motion with one hand that was all too graphic.

"It seems that every man has the rudimentary equipment of a woman. Nature just adds on fallopian tubes, a womb, a cervix on a woman; penis and testicles for a man."

"Was the surgery something like turning everything inside out?"

"Well, they used all the old skin. No leftovers. And they worked real hard not to sever any of the nerves or heavy muscles. But it's a little more complicated than that. Moving things around some."

"Cosmetically as well as functionally?"

"Yeah. I mean, it doesn't look exactly like a woman. But pretty close, I guess. I mean I've only seen a few women. But it seems right."

"Pubic hair and everything?"

"Well," I blushed again. "Not right now. They shave all that when you go in for the surgery."

"I've seen that before without surgery. Sexy," Brent said with a smile. I blushed again. Actually, the whole topic, that reminded me of what was now between my legs, was making me uncomfortable. I found that I was rubbing my legs together and that really wasn't helping much. It was a new kind of itch that was too deep to scratch casually.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Bill said then. I followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at my legs, my knee rising a few inches and lowering again. I stopped and the itch intensified.

"I liked it," Brent said. "You know," he continued. "If I were you, I could hardly wait to use it. To see what it's like."

For the first time in hours, I remembered the boys in the park and reacted to the memory. Brent looked from me to Linda and back again. "You two already tried it out?"

Linda shook her head. "Nope. Amy only got home a little before you got there and we had to get dressed." But she was still looking at me as I looked at my painted fingertips. I've always been a shitty liar and can't even keep a secret at Christmas.

"You have, haven't you?" Linda said with a wondering grin. I couldn't lie to her. I nodded. "I mean, besides the doctor playing with you."

"Whoa," Brent said. "I hadn't heard about that."

"Well, how else would she have been able to tell it all worked?" Linda asked him.

"Oh, yeah, I guess you're right. But go on. What else happened?" I sighed and looked around at them. All of them were staring at me expectantly.

"Well," I began and swallowed hard. "There were these two boys in the park when I was walking home."

"You attacked a couple of kids in the park?" Brent said with a laugh.

"No. Of course not." I paused to figure out how to state it. "Actually, it was the other way around. And they weren't really kids. Young men. Late teens, maybe."

"But maybe twelve," Brent said nastily.

"No. Really. And they made me."

"You couldn't have screamed or run away?" Linda said with a little frown. I shook my head again.

"No. There wasn't anyone out there but them and me. At least that could have heard me."

"But you really wanted to try it out anyway, right?" Brent said. I don't think he understood what kind of trouble he could be getting me into with Linda. I looked at her and, although she looked pleasant, I could see she wasn't happy with me.

"Mike was an alley cat," she said then. "Never could keep it in his pants. Now sweet little Amy is carrying on the tradition." Now I knew she was getting pissed and that there was nothing I could do about it. I was just in trouble.

"I really didn't want to do it, Linda. They forced me."

"Yeah. A rape in the park and you just waltz home and jump in the shower."

"Lighten up, Linda," Brent said seriously. "It's no problem. Obviously, she wasn't hurt. That's important. And if she didn't use that beautiful body, it'd be a terrible shame."

"I can see your irritation with Mike playing around on you, Linda. But what's the problem with Amy getting a little. Your legal position has been dissolved, hasn't it?"

Linda nodded but she still wasn't happy. "I thought we loved each other," Linda said softly. I got up and went around the table to her, kneeling down and taking her hand.

"Of course we do, honey. But this was different. Really."

"I'm sure. It's always different. Now instead of it being different girls with a guy thrown in on the side occasionally, it'll be different guys with an occasional girl tossed in for good measure."

"Maybe, Linda. You know I'm a very sensual person. And I can't promise anything. But you know I'll always love you and come home to you." I looked into her eyes where they blurred with tears.

She put her arms around my neck and hugged me. I held her tight.

"I understand," she said finally into my ear. "I really do. It's just that I was scared, I guess. That you'd leave me now."

"No, baby." I held her a little way away and looked into her eyes until she smiled. I couldn't stand it any longer. I kissed her and she responded as I'd hoped she would extending the kiss in both duration and intensity further than I had expected. Finally she ended it and really smiled into my eyes as she rubbed the back of my hair. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." I stood up then and walked back to my chair and sat down. That's when I noticed the silence in the room. You could have heard a pin drop and, once again, absolutely everyone in the room was staring at me. Worse, they were open-mouthed staring.

I blushed as I realized what had just happened. Brent broke the silence.

"That's the most incredibly sexy thing I've ever seen," he said.

"Me, too," Bill said from the other side of me. "Two beautiful women in that kind of embrace. Wow!"

"I think everyone else in the room agrees," Brent said as he looked around at all the faces. Now they were beginning to turn to each other.

Two men got up to leave then, walking just behind me. One said, "Such a waste. Fucking lesbians."

My mouth dropped in disbelief. Then I looked at Brent, then Linda, and finally Bill. All were fighting back laughter. Then I saw it and the humor overwhelmed me. We all laughed until I felt the burn of mascara in my right eye. Tears of laughter were streaming down my face and I could see Linda's mascara running down beside her nose as well.

She got up then and came around the table, holding out her hand to me. "Come on, lover," she said fairly loudly. "Let's go fix our faces." I took her hand and, for the benefit of our vast audience and to Brent and Bill's great enjoyment, put my arm around her waist for our walk into the restroom.

Chapter 19

IT TOOK A little while for us to wash the streaked mascara from our cheeks and rearrange the remnants. Then new lipstick and a brush through our hair made it right again. We talked as we cleaned up and Linda was now ready to listen as I told her about the encounter in the park with the two boys.

"I should still spank your bottom," she said finally. "If you'd really wanted to stop them, you could have."

First, I tried to claim I hadn't been a woman for long enough to know all the techniques of turning guys down. That really didn't work because, as she reminded me, a guy's methods of discouraging something like that would probably have worked as well or better. She finally accepted that I needed some sort of experience like that with my new body. In addition, we came to an understanding about the differences in our lives now that I was truly female. Our relationship had to change to a more sisterly one or, possibly, very best friends. And that precluded marital jealousy. We turned back to the lounge.

Brent and Bill popped up when we reappeared and met us near the open entry of the lounge. The maitre d' had called us to a table. But Brent couldn't leave it alone.

Rather loudly, he said, "You did what? Right here in the restroom?" Linda hit him and grinned through her embarrassment. I looked back at him with a devilish grin. Over his shoulder, I saw a dozen heads turn to their partners in surprise or disgust or with knowing grins.

The maitre d' met us at the entrance of the dining room and led us across its expanse. Shining white linen, burgundy napkins, sparking crystal and flatware, silver edged plates. Many heads came up to watch us as we walked the full length of the room. I could feel the way Bill's hand rode on the naked skin of my lower back, just above the top of the skirt. It felt very nice.

The maitre 'd seated us at a table with a booth-like bench on one side and chairs on the other. I scooted into the bench so I could watch the people in the room for a change instead of being watched, leaving Linda and Brent to sit with their backs to the room.

The cold leather almost took my breath away as I sat on it fully and again when I leaned back on the soft leather back. But it quickly warmed and felt as sensual as a warm body next to yours.

As Brent arranged for wine during dinner and another round of drinks, Bill leaned very close to my ear and whispered. His breath in my ear turned me on.

"Your story about the park got me so excited I can hardly wait until I can do some exploring of my own," he whispered. I turned my head and spoke as softly in his ear.

"I'll let you put your finger in my pussy if I can put my finger in yours," I said. He giggled and blushed. He returned to my ear.

"Maybe something a little bigger than my finger," he said.

"Sorry I can't reciprocate on that any more."

"No problem. The last few times you did just fine." He let his tongue find my earlobe for a quick lick. I cringed at the cascade of chills that sent down my back.

When I turned my mouth to his ear this time, I said nothing. I just let my tongue find the opening of his ear for a second and watched him cringe. Turnabout.

"Okay, you two. Everyone will talk," Brent said with a grin. He was looking right at us, as was Linda. Now with a big smile on her face. As if he hadn't thought of it, he turned to Linda's ear, putting his hand up to the side of his cheek like a megaphone. Linda nodded once then smiled and nodded again.

As he put his hand down, she turned to his ear and whispered. Then I saw her tongue in his ear as mine had been with Bill. I grinned and realized, as Bill put his hand on my thigh, that I was rubbing my legs together again. She didn't stop after a second as I had and Brent began to squirm in his chair before he couldn't stand it any more and pulled his head away. I knew from experience how talented Linda's tongue is. I've even seen her tie a knot in a piece of spaghetti with it.

She smiled with satisfaction at her ability to get to him before he turned slightly in the chair and brushed her long hair off her ear. Again he cupped his hand on his cheek as if he were sharing a secret that no one else could know. I saw Linda's eyes glaze and then close. Her whole body gave a little shudder then. Finally, she pulled her head away from him with a huge shudder than went throughout her body.

"Oh, you've got to stop that!" she said, looking at him. "It drives me wild!"

"Good," he said from very near her cheek. He looked at me with a little grin. "We'll have to take advantage of that knowledge in a little while. I like wild a lot."

When Bill had put his hand on my leg, I'd stopped rubbing them together. With a sigh, I realized, even though he hadn't moved his hand, I was still rubbing them together. What's worse, the cocktail waitress had come with our drinks and gone again and it didn't register at all on my consciousness.

Worse, Bill's hand wasn't still. He was rubbing back and forth across my thigh. High on my thigh. Almost at the hem of the very short underskirt. It stopped moving, wrapped around my thigh. He leaned to my ear again.

"I changed my mind," he whispered. "I can't wait."

He turned away and picked up his drink with the other hand. Then his hand moved around my thigh until I could feel the fingers between my legs. It moved up until they contacted the conjunction over the sheer pantyhose. Again he leaned to my ear.

"Uncross your legs, Amy," he whispered. I clenched them together tighter and shook my head. I turned to his ear.

"We've already got people talking about us. Not here, okay?" He turned back to my ear, holding the drink glass to the side of his face nearest the room.

"Uncross your legs or we'll have to leave right now." Then his tongue wrapped around my earlobe again and his teeth captured it between them. My leg rose, as it had been before when rubbing, and his hand slid between them.

"Please, Bill," I whispered, my eyes closed now. Then his fingers found my clit under the pantyhose and I bit my lip. The way his hand insinuated itself tightly between my legs, my calf slipped off my knee. I dropped my hands into my lap to try to capture his but my resolve had fled. They only fell to the back of his and held him the tighter to me.

He began rubbing down far between my legs but with his knuckles continuing to rub my clit. It was excruciatingly exciting. The public place that I was still peripherally aware we were in, made it just that much more exciting.

"Come for me," he whispered between his teeth, still biting my earlobe. I didn't want to here but, even as I thought about saying something, my body clenched on itself. My head was pulled back by my spasming neck muscles. That pulled my mouth open to let the moan escape. My eyes clenched even tighter shut. And the climax rolled through my body.

His hand stopped moving and his teeth released my earlobe.

"God, that was beautiful," Brent said from across the table. I let my head return to its normal position and opened my eyes. Linda leaned on the table smiling. Brent lolled back in his chair with one arm around the chairback and the other around his drink. Also smiling broadly.

Behind them, a man alone at a table smiled and toasted me with his drink and a waiter or busboy leaning against the wall near the kitchen nodded and smiled.

"Well," Linda said. "That looked like fun."

All I could do was nod and moan, "Uh huh." I took a big swig of my drink. When I turned my head, Bill was looking like the cat who swallowed the canary, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "I'll get you for that," I said.

"Anytime you'd like," he answered.

That was the night that Bill proposed. And now he's not the richest man in the city. His wedding gift to me was the half interest in his business enterprises.

This weekend, I was matron of honor for Linda while Bill acted as best man for Brent. Given the example, and the startling success of Bill's and my businesses in the last six months, Brent's agreement read word for word the same as ours.

Tonight's our first anniversary. I think he'll enjoy my gift. John's got the biggest cock I have ever seen and, when he puts it into Bill's little pussy, I'm sure I'll be able to feel it all the way into mine.

This's going to be fun.

Maybe even as much fun as when we hired the guy-girl teams in Amsterdam on our honeymoon.