Nice Shoes

Nice Shoes Part 1

By Deane Christopher

Copyright 2004

Upon scanning the recently updated list of United's departure times, Ethan Eager Samuels internally fumed. 'Shit. Why the hell did I ever let the woman at the ticket counter back in Philly talk me into taking an earlier flight? Now, owing to an unexpected weather front over the Rockies, and the fact that I'm just too nice of a guy sometimes for my own good, I've got a five and a half-hour layover to look forward to. And, to make matters worse, I absolute hate spending anymore time here at O'Hare than I absolutely have to...'

Though somewhat disgruntled, Ethan endeavored to make the best out of a bad situation. Stopping at one of several of the multi-purpose retail outlets that were peppered about O'Hare's sprawling airport complex, Ethan, aware that she needed something to help her past the time, purchased a paperback novel. Then, though she absolutely abhorred subjecting herself to the dehumanizing rigmarole required to pass beyond the various security measures that were in place, Ethan, assuming a grin and bear it attitude, proceeded to steer a path for the concourse upon which her flight's departure gate was located.

As expected, only a scant few of Ethan's fellow fliers occupied the sea of seats available to them at the departure gate. With plenty of seats available to choose from, and hoping against hope that she could remain reasonably undisturbed for as long as possible, Ethan adroitly moved to an as yet occupied section. Selecting a seat at the far end of a row, she sat down; placed her recently purchased coffee cup on the little attached table; stowed her handbag under the chair; smoothed out the striking leather mini-skirt she had elected to wear that morning; opened the paperback, and began to read.

+++++

"Nice shoes."

As engrossed as Ethan was in the novel she had started to read, it took her a moment to become fully cognizant of the fact that the aforementioned comment had been directed her way.

"Excuse me," Ethan, brushing a loose strand of shimmering chestnut hair out of hers face, somewhat distractedly managed.

Even as the gorgeous, azure eyed blonde demurely began to take a seat directed across from the one which Ethan occupied, she purred, "What I said was: I like your shoes."

Taken aback by the blonde's rather pointed remark, Ethan stammered, "Oh..." Then, in an all out effort on her part to cover her shock and dismay, Ethan, in a knee-jerk reaction, glanced down at the striking pair of black kidskin stiletto heeled pumps that graced those ever so femininely sculptured feet of hers. Having done that, she continued on to lift her head a smidgen, only to behold an eerily and unsettling pair of similar heels adorning the feet of the knock-down, drop-dead gorgeous blonde who had so casually addressed her but a moment before.

Ethan, with a come-hither voice that gushed with the same sort of sexual promise as had the blonde's, guardedly replied, "Well, I guess you would, seeing that you seem to be wearing a pair that appear to look a lot like mine."

"Look, I don't mean to quibble, or start an argument, or anything of that sort," the blonde impishly chuckled, "but as far as I'm concerned, I would have to say that my shoes look exactly like yours."

"Yes..." somewhat disheartened, Ethan found herself forced to agree. "I guess they sort of do at that."

Then, before the blonde could offer any sort of comeback, Ethan, hoping to control the direction of the conversation, continued on to inquire, "I don't mean to probe, but do you mind if I ask you where you purchased those shoes of yours?"

"Oh, these. I found them at a little boutique in a mall in Columbus, Ohio."

"So, I take it they're new?"

"Heavens no," the blonde gleefully chuckled. "Now, let's see... Oh, I must have bought them some seven or eight years ago."

Though the blonde's reply deeply troubled Ethan, in that it made her suspicious as all get-out, in an effort to confirm her suspicions, Ethan continued on to say, "Well, given how good they look, I can only assume that you don't wear them that often. I mean, as far as I can tell, they look new, in that they don't seem to be marred or scoffed in any way."

"Actually," the blonde countered, "I wear them pretty much all the time."

"Oh, you do, do ya'?"

"Yes... As a matter of fact, I do. And, I must say, you're right. They really do look as if they're brand new.

"But, then again, so do yours," the perky blonde was quick to add an addendum to her previous statement.

"So, tell me," the blonde put the question to Ethan. "Are yours new? Or, have you had them for awhile as well?"

"Well..." Ethan, feeling like she was picking hers way through a minefield, guardedly responded, "...while I haven't had mine nearly as long as you've had yours, I guess I would say that I've had mine for about three years now."

"Oh, you have, have you? And, do you wear them a lot?"

"Yes..." Ethan, in an unguarded moment, hastily replied. "I guess I do at that."

"So tell me," the blonde leaned forward in her seat. "By any chance, do yours have any sort of manufacture's label inside?"

Taken aback by the blonde's rather pointed question, Ethan's answer was introspectively framed, "No... Actually, now that you mention it, I don't believe they do."

"Now that's really odd," the blonde's reply was thoughtfully couched. "Because, neither do mine."

Though deathly afraid of the answer she might receive; Ethan felt compelled to ask what she deemed to be the most telling question to that point in the ongoing exchange. "Tell me something. By any chance do yours have a fancy, sort of Old English looking 'Z' stamped into bottom of the spiked heels themselves?"

"I don't really know..." the blonde curiously replied, as she hastily leaned forward, and in so doing, fluidly plucked a pump from off of her seductively dangling left foot. Turning it about, so as to be able to inspect the final of the shoe's wickedly tapered heel, she excitedly beamed, "Well, what do you know. I'll be damned. It's a 'Z' all right. Gee, I wonder why I've never noticed it before..." her voice trailed off into the perplexing realm of silent contemplation.

"Look, I know how funny this is going to sound," the blonde continued on to say. "But, could I perhaps see one of yours? That way, I can compare them?"

Unfazed by what under other circumstances would have been a rather off the wall request, a very intrigued Ethan casually replied, "Sure thing. I'd be happy to." Leaning forward in her seat, Ethan adroitly removed a pump, and handed it over for the blonde to inspect.

"Well, I'll be. They both have what appears to me to be the exact same 'Z' stamped into the little rubberized piece that caps off the heel."

"Can I see?" Ethan asked in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

"Well, of course you can. Here you go," the blonde chuckled, as she held the matching pumps out for Ethan to take possession of.

"So," the blonde continued on cheerfully, "I guess that leads me to my next question, with that question being: do you like doing stints as a part-time girl?"

Then, answering her own question, the perky blonde humorously quipped, "Well, of course you do. I mean, if you didn't, you sure wouldn't be out and about, traveling as one, now would you?

"No. Of course you wouldn't."

Then, in an abrupt change of subject, the blonde proceeded on to chortle, "Hey. I don't know about you, girl, but I'm starting to get a little hungry. So, since it would appear that you and I have got a lot in common, not to mention a good four hours to kill before we even board our plane, what say you and I go grab a bite to eat?"

+++++

Having set her food tray on the table of the booth that she and Ethan were in the process of occupying, the blonde said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ginger. I mean, here, you've already told me your name, and where you're from, and why you're flying out to California, and I have yet to return the favor and tell you mine. I really must apologize. That was really ignorant of me.

"So, tell you what. Let me correct that little oversight of mine, right here and now."

"There's really no need for you to do that," Ethan casually replied, as she slid that succulent derriere of hers along the badly frayed cushion of the booth's bench. "I know who you are all right."

"You do, do ya'?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. You're Cassandra Newman," Ethan replied, adding rather sheepishly, "I know you might find this hard to believe, but I do believe that I have all your calendars."

"My, my. What do you know? A fan. I must say, I'm flattered."

"Actually..." Ethan blushed, "...I could go so far as to say that, when push comes to shove, I know you intimately. Or, I could say that I know you up close and personal, to the point where you could even say the laying of hands comes into play..."

"Oh..." Cassandra impishly smiled. "I do believe that I understand what you're getting at. And, if you're afraid that I might take offense with you, and your using me to get those narcissistic rocks of yours off, don't. Trust me, Ginger. I do something of the sort all the time myself."

"You do?" Ethan was incredulous.

"Yes. Yes I do. In fact, every month when my Playboy arrives in the mail, I head for the bedroom; change myself into a girl, and proceed to run through all the latest lovelies that strike my fancy."

"Well, what do you know. Would you believe that I do the very same thing myself?" Ethan enthusiastically proclaimed.

"So tell me, Ginger," Cassandra impishly encouraged. "About how long did it take you to become aware of the fact that those heels of yours granted you the ability to assume the appearance of any, shall we say, reasonably attractive woman that strikes that manly, and if you're anything at all like me, somewhat lecherous fancy of yours?"

"Oh, I don't know... Maybe a week... Maybe two..."

"So, tell me. How'd it happen? How did you come to find out that you could actually change yourself into a whole host of other women?"

"If I remember correctly, I do believe that I was watching television one night, doing things to myself that most people would find rather crass, if not down right perverted..."

"You need say no more. Believe me, Ginger, I know exactly what you're talking about. Besides, you could say that it sort of goes with the territory. After all, what's a guy to do when he all of a sudden ends up a stacked and packed member of the opposite sex?"

"Are you saying that you do that sort of touchie-feelie, get-off-on-yourself stuff too?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," Cassandra hastily replied, giggling all the while. "Truth is, I'd be playing a game of stink finger with myself right now if I could manage it without drawing any undue attention to myself, and I be willing to bet that you would too."

"Yeah, I guess I kind of would at that. I mean, whenever I'm a girl I live in a state of perpetual horniness."

"Tell me about it.

"But anyhow, you were telling me about your first experience in which you found yourself changed into another woman before we got off on a tangent. So, before I go and get you sidetracked again, how 'bout you finish up telling me about how it happened?"

"Sure thing. I'd be happy to.

"Okay. So, I was stretched out on the sofa, playing a fast and furious game of grab-ass with myself, when all of a sudden the show I'm watching breaks for a commercial, and this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous woman, who has this truly massive set of knockers, suddenly appears on the screen. Then, to make matters worse, she's wearing this slinky black catsuit that leaves little to that already frazzled imagination of mine.

"So anyhow, it suffices to say that I must have started thinking about how nice it would be were I to have a set of tits as large as hers, and how down right sexy I would feel decked out in a similar outfit. Well, since you probably already know where I'm going with all of this, Cassandra, it just sort of happened all on its own. One minute I'm lying there, fantasying about how it would feel to be her, and the next minute, I find that, for all practical purposes, I am her.

"Well, let me tell you. I found out real fast that the Goldilocks Principle applies to one's breast size as well as it does to the temperature of porridge. In other words, it didn't take me more than five whole minutes trying to deal with those ungainly bad boys that I had magically fitted myself out with to come to the conclusion that anything beyond ample is not only cumbersome, but a real pain to have to deal with, much less lug around.

"Oh. I can see by the way you're nodding your head in agreement, Cassandra, that I'm more than likely preaching to the choir. In other words, unless I'm way off base here, I think it's safe for me to assume that you had at least one similar experience dealing with extra large boobs?"

"Actually, I've had more than I'd like to admit to over the years. But, then again, some of us are real hardheads. That's to say that some of us take a little more convincing than others.

"Oh. And, while I'm thinking about it, you don't have to call me Cassandra. I much prefer Cassy, or even Paula."

"Paula?" There was a dubious infection clearly conveyed in Ethan's retort. "So, am I to take it that Cassandra isn't your real name?"

"That's correct. The modeling world knows me as Cassandra Newman, but my real name, or I should say, my real 'girlish' name is Paula, Paula Meadows."

"Meadows..." Ethan thoughtfully repeated the name. "By any chance are you related to a Janice Meadows, the very same Janice Meadows who owns and runs the Meadows' Modeling Agency?"

Paula, with a great big shit-eating grin spreading knowingly across that beatific face of hers, brightly replied, "Why yes. Yes, I am."

"Is she perhaps your sister?" Ethan countered.

"No. Close, but no cigar. Actually, Ginger, she's my wife. Why? Were you perhaps thinking about trying to entice me into engaging in a lesbian romp in the hay with you?"

"Yes..." Embarrassed to the depth of her soul, Ethan meekly responded. "Yes, I kind of sort of was hoping that you might be up for something of that nature. That's to say that I was holding out the hope that you might be foot-loose and fancy free, and therefore up for some lesbian based hanky-panky."

"Sorry, Ginger. Regardless of the fact that I spend a great deal of my time as a woman, I have to confess that I'm a happily married man. Look, as flattered as I am by what I take as your implied suggestion that the two of us engage in a girlish game of tit for tat, the last thing I would ever do is to jeopardize what I have with my wife by cheating on her."

"You need say no more, Paula. I understand perfectly.

"Truth is, as strange as it might sound in this day and age, I actually respect you for taking that position."

Cassandra was incredulous, "You do?"

"Oh, yeah. Believe me. Were I in an exclusive relationship at present, which regretfully I'm not, make no never mind about it, I would feel exactly like you do. In other words, I don't for one minute buy into the business that eatin' ain't cheatin'. Call me a fool. Call me old fashioned. But, as far as I'm concerned, eatin' is cheatin', and that's the be all and end all of it.

"In other words, Cassy - Excuse me. - Paula, I am an avid believer in monogamous relationships."

"Well then, that makes two of us, Ginger.

"Also, let me just say that it's really refreshing to hear that somebody else shares my views on relationships..."

"Paula, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure... By all means... I mean, while I don't know if I'll feel comfortable enough to give you an answer, it doesn't hurt for you to ask. So, go ahead. Ask away."

"How does your wife deal with you, and this part-time girl business of yours?"

"Pretty well, actually.

"Well, it pretty much goes without saying that were it not for me and these magical high heels of mine, there would be no Meadows' Modeling Agency for her to manage. For your information, back when we started out in the business, I was the only horse in the stable, so to speak. That's to say, back in the beginning I was doing double, triple, and at times, quadruple duty. If an ad agency wanted a spunky brunette for an advertising campaign they were putting together; I'd simply turn myself into a spunky brunette. Likewise, if they were looking for a long-legged redhead, I'd be a long-legged redhead."

"While all that's interesting, that's not exactly what I had in mind, Paula."

"Oh. I understand. You want to know about our personal life, right? That's to say that you want to know if my wife and I ever go the 'lesbian route', when I'm like I am now, correct?"

With a muted sense of trepidation conveyed in the inflexions of her voice, Ethan meekly responded, "Yes. That basically what I was referring to."

"I find it rather funny that you should ask me that particular question. Funny, and to a degree telling...

"Now, before I answer it, I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that you will never tell my wife a single solitary word of what I'm about to tell you. In other words, Ginger, what I'm about to tell you remains strictly between the two of us, all right?"

"Sure... No problem... I promise. I won't tell a soul."

"Good!" Cassandra beamed. "And, just so you know, you've got the job."

"What job? What in tarnation are you talking about, Paula?"

"The modeling job that you're flying out to LA to see my wife about. It's yours if you want it."

Ethan was incredulous. "You're shittin' me, right?"

"No. Not at all. I'm not, as you say, shittin' you. You just now passed your interview, and the job's yours if you want it.

"You see, Ginger, while I was talking to my wife last night on the phone, she told me that you would be flying out to California today in order to meet with both of us tomorrow. Then, having made my travel arrangements, she went on to add that there was a good chance that you'd probably be booked on the same connecting flight out of O'Hare that I was, and owing to that possibility, I was to keep an eye out for you.

"Now, it would seem that I have a little confession of my own to make. You see, in order to help me pick you out of a crowd, I had my wife e-mail me a half dozen or so of the pictures that you sent to her out of your portfolio. Well, to make a long story short, there I was, all alone in my hotel room last night, with your pictures spread out all over the bed, and a whole evening with nothing special to do, save to watch television, read a book, or something along those lines..."

"Please, tell me that you didn't do what I think you're suggesting you did?" Ethan plaintively squealed.

"I wish I could. But, in all honesty, I can't.

"And, may I say that you, my dear, have not only one of the nicest, but one of the sexiest bodies that I have ever had the pleasure to, shall we say, take out for a test drive.

"In other words, Ginger, in sort of a tit for tat, quid pro quo, auto-erotic manner of speaking, you could say that I've enjoyed taking your body out for a spin as much as you've enjoyed dickering around with mine."

"This is starting to get a little kinky," Ethan interjected.

"Oh, I think we passed kinky a long time ago. But nevertheless, regardless of how crass and perverted it may well have been, that's what I did to while away the time last night.

"Now, to answer that question of yours concerning whether or not my wife and I have ever engaged in lesbian sex, the short answer is yes. I'm happy to say that we not only have, but still do, get it on with one another while I'm like I am now. However, you need to know that it took my wife quite awhile before she could see her way clear to engaging in anything that even remotely resembled a lesbian based activity. But, I'm happy to report than when she did experience that change of heart of hers, she went at it whole hog. I mean to tell you, Ginger, my wife Janice took to the lesbian business like a duck takes to water.

"Now, while I can't prove a damn thing, I do believe that these heels of mine had something to do with my wife's sexual epiphany."

"And what, pray tell, leads you to draw that conclusion?" a thoroughly intrigued Ethan proceeded on to inquire.

"In order to better answer that question of yours, I think it would help were I to qualify a few things by asking you a couple of questions first."

"Sure. Go ahead. Be my guest. Ask away."

"Look, I know this is really getting personal, but what is your present sexual orientation? I mean, as a guy, are you heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual?"

"Well that's an easy one. Make no never mind about it. As a guy, I'd have to say that I'm about as heterosexual as heterosexual can be."

"Alright. Well, if that's the case, would it be safe for me to assume that whenever you opt into girlhood, you would consider yourself to be a lesbian? Or, would it be more correct to say that you fall into the bisexual category? In other words, Ginger, I guess what I'm asking is: have you, as a girl, ever willing engaged in any sort of sexual encounter with a guy?

"Well..." Ethan replied thoughtful. "When you put it like that, I'd have to say that as a girl, you'd have to classify me as being a homosexual. I mean, regardless of what sex I happen to be, there's no getting around the fact that girls are my ticket. In other words, I like girls. Always have. Always will.

"Now, to answer that other question of yours, let me just say this about that. It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever let some son of bitch put his grimy paws on me, much less stick that ugly and gnarled up pecker of his up inside of this little you-know-what of mine.

"Oh, and just so you know, the same sort of shit applies to blowjobs. In other words, something such as that sort of icky shit ain't never going happen. I mean," a somewhat vexed Ethan stammered, "while I absolutely love it when a girl goes down on me when I'm a guy, there's no way in hell that I, as a girl, would ever do something as sick and perverted as that. In other words, Paula, I just don't swing that way."

"Okay, Ginger. Simmer down. I was just asking. That's all...

"Oh. And, just so you know, when it comes to the blowjob business, I'm in total agreement with you. I'm not into that sort of stuff either. For the record, I've never been with a guy. Nor, do I ever plan to be with a guy. Like you, as the man I was born to be, I'm a heterosexual. By the same token, when I change myself in a woman, since I like you still retain my manly mindset, not to mention this very active, what my wife kiddingly refers to as this dirty-old-man-aspiring libido of mine, I guess I'd have to classify myself as a lesbian's lesbian.

"Well, now that I know where your head is, I do believe that I am in a much better position to be able to answer your question about my wife, and her sudden and unexpected change of heart, as pertains to the lesbian aspects of this rather convoluted relationship of ours.

"Remember what you just told me about how you feel about fellatio? Well, that's pretty much the way my wife once felt about cunnilingus.

"In other words, when it came to cunnilingus, my wife, Janice, employed a rather healthy double-standard. That's to say that she loved it when I, as a guy, went down on her and gave her a thorough tongue-lashing. She even admitted that she probably could have handled it were I to have gone down on her while I was in girl motif, just as long as I didn't expect her to return the favor, and, as crude as this might sound, eat me out."

"So," Ethan asked, "what lead her to have a change of heart?"

"Beats me.

"One day she was adamant about having nothing to do with anything that could be classified as being of a lesbian nature, and the next, she was Little Miss Eager, Let Me Have At Your Beaver.

"In other words, Ginger, though my wife tells me she agonized over her decision for a couple of weeks before she finally decided to give it a go, as far as I was concerned, it seemed to me as if she turned into a lesbian minx damn near overnight.

"And that, in a nutshell, is why I contend that these magical high heels of mine must have had something to do with her becoming a very eager and aggressive bisexual.

"Oh, and here's something else that you might find to be of interest, Ginger. Now, I know how crazy this might sound, but would you believe that the only woman that my wife is, or has ever been sexually attracted to is yours truly?"

"Are you sure about that?" Ethan dubiously inquired.

"Oh, yeah. Make no never mind about it. I'm sure about that."

"And, you actually believe her?"

"Most definitely.

"You see, Ginger, there's one thing about my wife that you need to understand, and that's that she's as honest as the day is long. In other words, she can't lie worth a damn, and she knows it. She's also about as blunt as blunt can be. That's to say that she doesn't beat about the bush. If she has something to say, she just comes right out and says it."

"For your sake, I sure hope your right about that."

"Oh, take my word for it. I am. My wife would no more cheat on me than I would on her."

"Good. That's terrific. I am really glad to hear you say that, Paula, in that it gives me a reason to hope..."

Seeking qualification, Paula asked, "You mean, that you might one day find a woman who can accept this rather unique sexual duality of yours?"

"Yes."

"So, I take it that you haven't had a lot of luck with the ladies?"

"Yeah... In a manner of speaking, you could say that..."

"Bummer..."

"Yeah... It sure the hell is.

"I mean, while I do date a lot, I haven't as yet found a girl that I really want to settle down with."

"I take it that it has something to do with those magical high heels of yours, and this rather unique double life that they allow you to lead?"

"Yes. By and large, that would be a pretty fair assessment of the problem."

"I kind of thought so," Paula quipped, before continuing on to say, "So, let me ask you a question."

"Sure... Ask away..."

"Let's say you meet this terrific young woman, but the trouble is that she can't handle you and your being a part-time woman. What do you do? Do you forgo ever being a girl again? Or, do you bid the young lady a fond adieu, with the hope of one day finding someone who can?

"That's an easy one. While I'd dearly miss doing stints as a female, I'd give it up in a heartbeat for the right woman," Ethan was quick to add a caveat, "But, it would have to be the right woman. I mean, I enjoy the time I spend as a girl far too much to give it up for just anybody. That being the case, I'd really have to love somebody with all my heart and soul to do something such as that."

"Well, for my money, I'd say that you have your priorities in order, Ginger."

"Yeah... I kind of think so too..."

"Hey. I'm curious. Have you ever hooked up with a lesbian?"

"Two, actually," Ethan, with an impish smile spreading across that angelic face of hers, knowingly replied. "The first one was little more than a one-night stand, but I had an exclusive, one on one relationship with the second one that lasted for several months. Trouble was, while the sex was great, in that it was so fantastic that it was out of this world, we sort of grated on one another. You see, when it came to the issue of hard core feminism, she was one end of the political spectrum, while I, while not being anywhere near the other end of spectrum, couldn't deal with some of the radical crap she ascribed to. In other words, Paula, she was a bra burning N.O.W. activist, who hated men with a passion that bordered on what I could only think of as being an obsession, and a very unhealthy obsession at that. I mean to tell you, as far as she was concerned men were the root cause of all the world's problems. She also maintained that as soon as it became scientifically feasible to do so, that there should be a worldwide moratorium on giving birth to a male child. Then, in a concurrent move, she proposed that all of the world's living males, save for a selected few that would be kept in secure government-run installations as so much breeding stock, should be forced by international law to undergo a vasectomy."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Oh, no I'm not. This ball-bustin' bitch actually believe that what she and her fellow man-hating lesbian friends were proposing would put an end to all the world's problems in one fell swoop."

"Yeah, right. In a pig's eye it would.

"I'll just bet she never heard of the Law of Unintended Consequences."

"Tell me about it," Ethan, with a chuckle infesting that infectious, come-hither voice of hers, quipped.

"Would you believe that though it's infrequent at best, I still see her every now and again?"

"You do?" Paula was incredulous. "How come? I mean, from everything you just now told me, given the same sort of circumstance, I wouldn't want anything to do with a whacked-out fruitcake like her."

"Yeah... And, under normal circumstances, I would probably agree with you.

"However, as well you know, these aren't what you would call normal circumstances. And, since beggars can't be choosers, I've got to get my sexual gratification where and when I can find it. I mean, while I'd sure as hell like to have one, I, unfortunately, don't have an understanding wife waiting for me at home like you do, Paula.

"Okay. I'll admit it. I'm more than a little envious of you.

"I mean to tell you, Paula. You have no idea how lucky you are."

"Oh, but I do. Remember, as understanding as my wife was about my doing stints as a part-time female, she wasn't into the bisexual business to begin with. So, you see, Ginger, I do know a little something of where you're coming from. Fortunately for me, I just didn't have to put up with the situation for anywhere near as long as you have...

"Tell me something, Ginger. Have you ever told anybody about this dual life of yours?"

"No. Never. Though, I have to admit there have been several times when I've been sorely tempted to."

"I'll bet... So, why didn't you?"

"Basically, you could say I was afraid. I was afraid that if I did tell somebody about how I could use these heels of mine to change myself into a woman, it could end up biting me in the ass one day. That's to say that it could well come back to haunt me."

"Yeah... I more or less came to the same conclusion that you did."

"So, am I to take it that the only other person who knows about you is your wife?"

"That's right. Other than Janice, I haven't told a single solitary soul. That is, until today."

"Same here."

"So, what do you think, Ginger? Is it just us two, or do you think that there might be some other guys out there who have come into possession of a pair of magical heels like ours?"

"Well, though I can't say that I've given it much thought before, I'd have to say that, in light of meeting you, there's a fairly good chance that there might be other guys out there who possess a pair of magical high heels like ours."

"I do believe you might be right about that," Paula replied thoughtfully. "In fact, about a year and a half ago, I had my suspicions about one of Playboy's prettier Centerfolds.

"Look, I'll grant you that every last one of them is pretty in their own right, but the one to whom I'm referring to was even prettier than most of the girls they feature. Fact is she was prettier than any woman has a right to be. In other words, Ginger, she was as pretty as you and I are. She had a perfect body, topped off with a perfect face, a face that was more symmetrical and blemish free than any face has a right to be."

"Wait a second," Ethan blurted. "Pardon my French, but you wouldn't be referring to that sassy, stacked and packed Eurasian girl, the one with the hair that ran all the way down to that sassy and succulent ass of hers, now would you?"

"I most certainly am. I mean, for my money, she wasn't just beautiful. She was absolutely, no holds barred gorgeous. In other words, she was about as gorgeous as gorgeous can be."

"Yeah... You're right about that," Ethan knowingly smirked, savoring the ever so enticing memory that Paula's comments had invoked. "She was one fine piece of ass, if ever there was one.

"I mean, she was almost too beautiful to be true. Plus, now that you mention it, I do believe that in each and every picture contained in that spread you're referring to, she was wearing a pair of high heels that looked to me to be damn near identical to these stiletto heeled bad boys of ours."

"That's right, Ginger. She most certainly was. And, that's exactly what piqued my interest in her in the first place.

"Would you believe that my wife and I tried to track her down, with our hope being to get her under contract?"

"Let me hazard a guess. Try as you might, the two of you were unable to get in touch with her?"

"That's right.

"We even went so far as to hire a private investigator. He, in turn, tracked her to a post office box in Seattle. But, try as he might, that's as far as he ever got."

"You mean, she just up and vanished?"

"That would seem to be the case."

"But, I thought that Playboy kept pretty good tabs on all their playmates."

"They do, but this one seem to have, shall we say, somehow slipped under their radar, and they were, and possibly still are, somewhat vexed about the whole thing.

"You see, Ginger, I have it on the QT that she was an odds-on favorite to be named their playmate of the year last year. However, when the staff at Playboy Enterprises was unable to locate her, the only recourse open to them was to go with their second choice."

"So, I take it, what you're suggesting is: she was in all actuality a he, who had come into the possession of a magical pair of high heels that were, more than likely, made by the same person or persons who made ours."

"Yes. In so many words, that's exactly what I am suggesting."

"Okay. Well, if that's the case, and she is a member of our, shall we say, exclusive brotherhood slash sisterhood whatever-you-want-to-call-it, why do you think she pulled a disappearing act, if, that is, that's what you think happened?"

"That's a good question. Now, while I have nothing to base this opinion of mine on, my gut feeling is that something must have happened that caused her to rethink the whole thing. In other words, Ginger, I do believe that our little Eurasian beauty developed a bad case of cold feet, and hightailed it for the hills..."

+++++

Several minutes later, Paula broached another subject. "Tell me something, Ginger. Did my wife book you in first class or coach?"

"Coach."

"Well, given that I think the two of us still have a lot to talk about, how about you and I head out to the reservation desk so that I can upgrade your ticket to first class. That way we can sit together on the flight out to LA..."

+++++

"This is nice, Paula," Ethan cheerfully declared, as she settled that ever so tantalizing derriere of hers into the window seat. Would you believe that I've never flown first class before?"

"Well, you better get used to it, sweetcheeks, because from here on out, as long as you're under contract with the Meadows' Modeling Agency, you'll be parking that nicely rounded tush of yours up here in the big seats."

"Are you serious about that?"

"I most certainly am.

"Take my word for it, by this time next year, given your looks and my wife's salesmanship, you, my dear, will be one of, if not the most sought after model of the year."

"Honestly... I mean, do you really think so?" Ethan sounded dubious.

"Oh, yeah. Make no never mind about it. My Janice will have that beautiful face of yours gracing the covers of so many periodicals that it'll make your head spin."

"Really?" Ethan tittered, as she glanced at the watch adorning her left wrist.

"Yes. Really."

+++++

Having taken noticed that Ginger seemed to have a thing about time, in that she was incessantly glancing at her watch, Paula felt compelled to say, "You do realize that you don't have to do that, don't you?"

Taken aback by her new friend's unexpected comment, a thoroughly discombobulated Ethan sought clarification, "I don't have to do what?"

"Keep track of the time you spend as a female. I mean, you do know that it's not necessary, don't you?"

"Huh? Look, Paula, maybe I just being dense here, but I have no idea what you're talking about? I mean, if I don't keep an accurate track of the time I spend as a woman, how the hell am I ever going to accurately gauge how long it'll be before I change back into a man again once I do eventually get around to taking these heels of mine off?"

"What I'm talking about is, if your heels work anything like mine do, and I'd be willing to bet you that they work exactly like mine do, you don't have to worry about the like amount of what I have come to term residual girl-time that you accrue while wearing them."

"I don't?"

"No, not at all...

"Again, if your shoes work the same way mine do, all you need do is to make a conscious wish, or decision, to be a man again, and as long as you're not wearing those magical high heels of yours, you should revert to being your old manly self.

"Tell you what. Why not give it a try? Just go ahead and slip out of those pumps of yours so you can give it a shot."

"You mean, like right here, right now?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I mean, there's no one looking. Besides, Ginger, if anyone does chance to look our way, trust me, nothing, and I do mean nothing, will happen. You won't change. You'll remain just the way you are now. So, there's not a thing to worry about."

"Okay. Let's say that it'll work. Let's say that I can change myself back into a man the way you're saying I can. What happens them? I mean, you know as well as I do that it'll take me a good ten minutes to change back into a woman once I slip them back on now, won't it?"

"Yes, if you go that route, you're right. It most certainly will.

"However, you're not going to change back into a woman by re-donning your shoes. You're simply going to consciously flex your will, and thereby change yourself back into the woman that you are at present. Then, after you've opted back into womanhood, you will simply slip your feet back into your shoes."

"You mean to tell me that I don't need my heels to affect the change anymore?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you, Ginger, if, that is, your shoes work the same way mine do. Which I have no doubt they do.

"Tell you what," Paula chuckled, as she withdrew first one foot, and then the other, out of those ever so sexy foot fetish specials of hers. "I'll give you a demonstration of how easy it is to opt in and out of femininity, then you can have a go at it.

"Okay. When I say 'blink', blink.

"Ready? One. Two. Three. Blink."

Ethan did as Paula directed, only to open her eyes to find a somewhat pudgy, slightly balding, salt and pepper haired, middle aged gentleman sitting in the seat beside her.

"I'll grant you that, as a man, I'm nothing to write home about, but this regrettably is the me that I was born to be.

"Now, before someone glances our way and realizes that something isn't exactly kosher, how 'bout I take the precaution of changing back into my own better half?"

"Ready? One. Two. Three. Blink."

Once again, Ethan did as directed, only to find the drop dead gorgeous blonde bombshell she had met that morning once again occupying the seat beside hers.

"Okay, Ginger," Paula quipped, as she demurely maneuvered those dainty, nylon-clad feet of hers into the satin lined maw of her magical high heels. "Now it's your turn."

"Alright," Ethan returned with a sense of trepidation clearly conveyed in that ever so seductive voice of hers. "I'll give it a go. Just tell me again how you go about doing it, Paula."

"Basically, I just make a wish. I just construct a mental wish, and - Whalla! - this old body of mine up and undergoes a sexual one-eighty."

"You mean something like, 'I wish I was a man again'?"

"Yes. That should do the trick. However, when you do it, you've really got to mean it. In other words, you can't be namby-pamby about it."

"Okay, though I'm somewhat skeptical about whether or not it's going to work for me like it did for you, I'll give it a shot. Just do me a favor, Paula. Let me know when the coast is clear."

Paula, craning her head about, made a quick scan of the plane's first class compartment. "Alright, Ginger. Everybody looks to be preoccupied at the moment, so go ahead. Do it."

Though it probably was not necessary, Ethan closed her eyes and did exactly as Paula had told her to do.

"Holy shit!" a thoroughly flabbergasted Ethan excitedly stammered, in a grizzly baritone that registered in at a decibel level that was just above that of a conspiratorial whisper. "It worked. It actually worked. I'm a guy again."

"Told you so. Now, before anybody catches wind as to what's going on, you need to go ahead and reverse the process."

A tickled pink Ethan once again did as Paula directed.

With that girlish voice gushing with an unfettered sense of excitement, Ethan quipped, "Wow! Now that's really something. I never knew that I could do that."

"Take it from me, Ginger, it sure as hell makes it a lot easier to manage this part-time girl business."

"Oh, yeah. I can see where it would. I mean, it more or less goes without saying that being able to switch back and forth whenever the mood strikes you is a real Godsend.

"May I offer you one little suggestion, Ginger?"

"By all means... Please do."

"A word to the wise... From here on out, were I you, I'd make sure that I was wearing something, shall we say, a little more suited for being out in public before I opted into girl motif. I mean, while pajamas are fine for lounging around the house in, those rather scraggily ones you were just now wearing were, to say the least, highly inappropriate."

"Yeah..." Ethan giggled. "I guess they kind of were at that. And, you're right, Paula. From here on out, I'll have to make damn sure that I start off wearing something that won't draw any undo attention to myself should I decide to switch back and forth..."

"That would be the safe approach..."

A minute or so later, one of the two first class flight attendants leaned in a little over Paula's seat and addressed the two of them. "Excuse me, ladies. Would either one of you like something to drink?"

"Yes," Paula beamed. "I'll take a pass on anything alcoholic, but what I'd really like is a Diet Pepsi, if you have one?"

Directing her next comment at Ethan, "And you, ma'am? What would you like?"

"If you have any Diet Mountain Dew, I'd love one of those. If not, I'll take a Diet Sprite."

"Alright... I'll be back in a sec."

True to her words, the somewhat bewildered looking flight attendant returned with their requested beverages. Having handed both Paula and Ethan their soft drinks, she continued on to sheepishly inquired of the pair, "May I ask the two of you a question? By any chance was there a man, wearing a really outlandish looking striped shirt, sitting back here in the window seat a few minutes ago, or were these eyes of mine simply playing tricks on me?

"You see, every now and again, somebody from coach try's to sneak into the first class section, and when they do, it's my job to scoot them back to their own seats..."

Acting like little Ms. Innocent, Paula took the bull by the horns, and did the only thing she could do under the situation. That is to say, she told a fib, in that she lied that pert little ass of hers off. "No... Sorry... I hate to be the one to have to say this, but I do believe your eyes must have been deceiving you, because there was no man sitting here beside me. Oh, and just so you know, neither one of us have been out of our seats since we took off from O'Hare..."

"I really hated to have to lie like that," Paula admitted, once the somewhat perplexed flight attendant moved on. "But, there are times when one has to do what one has to do."

"There's no need for an explanation. I understand perfectly..."

+++++

"Oh. Before I forget, here's something else that you might find interesting about those pretty nifty high heels of yours," Paula said, as she shifted their conversation onto yet another topic.

"Should you ever get married, Ginger, there's a good chance that your wife will derive some rather remarkable benefits from those heels of yours."

"She will?"

"Well, while I can't guarantee it, what I can tell you is that my wife has gained what appears to me to be the same sort of magical ability to affect her clothes much the same way I do mine."

A clearly astonished Ethan sought clarification, "You mean to tell me that she can change her outfits the same way that both you and I can change ours?"

"The short answer - yes. Yes, she most certainly can."

"How's that possible?"

"Beats me. But, there's no getting around the fact that she can do the same thing that you and I can, in so far as her clothes are concerned."

"Can she change herself into a man?"

"No. That's to say that while my wife informs me that she keeps trying every now and again, she has yet to succeed."

"Interesting..." Ethan thoughtfully mused.

"How 'bout the way she looks? Can she change that as well?"

"No. But, what I can tell you is that as far as I'm concerned, she's a whole lot prettier today than she was when I first met her.

"Truth is, my wife's as much a knockout as you or I are."

"And, you attribute that to your heels."

"Yes... Yes, I do.

"And, here's something else that I attribute to my heels as well. While Janice turned forty-five just last month, she doesn't look it. Truth is, she appears to me to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but not anywhere near her real age."

"I take it that you think your heels are somehow responsible for your wife's looks?"

"I sure do. I mean, how else can you explain how a reasonably attractive woman up and turned into a knock-down, drop-dead-gorgeous femme fatale in her own right, who looks a whole a lot younger than she has any right to?"

+++++

Having spent most of their flight comparing notes, and telling anecdotal stories about some of their more humorous experiences revolving around their use of the magical high heels, out of left field so to speak, Paula returned to a topic they had discussed earlier. "Tell me something, Ginger. While I know that you dated both straight girls and, discounting that one night lesbian stand of yours, you dated that one whacked-out, man-hating dyke that you told me about at some length, I'm still kind of curious. Have you ever dated a woman who is bisexual?"

"No... I can't say that I have...

"Wait a minute. That's not a true statement," Ethan rescinded that prior statement of hers. "You see, I actually did date this one girl who during her college days experimented around with lesbianism, and so, technically speaking, I would have to say that she would qualify as what might be termed a quasi-bisexual. Basically, the way she explained it to me, the lesbian business was nothing more than a phase that she was going through. In other words, Paula, while she enjoyed being serviced, she, by her own admittance, wasn't all that thrilled when it came time for her to, I guess you could say, return the favor."

"I understand... But tell me something else. Since it would seem that a bisexual woman would be right up your alley, why on earth did you ever stop seeing her? I mean, was it her choice? Your choice? Or, did you guys mutually arrive at the decision to break it off, and go your separate ways?"

"Basically, when push came to shove, I guess I sort of made the decision to call it quits.

"Now, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I just couldn't deal with some of her sexual proclivities."

Seeking clarification, Paula prompted, "Such as?"

"Such as she was into what I can only call the lighter side of S&M. In other words, when it came to sex, she liked it a little on the rough side."

"And, I take it that you didn't?"

"No. I didn't, and for the record, I still don't."

"You need say no more, Ginger. I understand perfectly. The two of you didn't see eye to eye sexually speaking."

"You've got that straight," Ethan quipped.

"That's unfortunate, owing to the fact that you strike me as someone who has a lot to offer the right woman."

"I do believe that you're right about that. My problem is finding the right woman."

"I can see where that would present a problem for you.

"Tell me something, Ginger. Have you ever used your female persona to play Little Miss Matchmaker for the male you?"

"I most certainly have. Truth is, that's generally the way I hook up with the majority of the women I go out with."

"So, other than trying to find a woman who isn't put off by this sexual Jekyll and Hyde routine of yours, what, exactly, are you looking for in so far as a prospective wife is concerned?"

Basically, I am looking for three things in a prospective wife. First off, the two of us have to be best friends. While we can both have other friends outside of one another, we have to want to spend the majority of our free time doing things together, even if that's nothing more than sitting around the house and watching the boob-tube. Secondly, since money lies at the heart of many, if not most material problems, and since marriage is pretty much a business venture when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it, the woman I marry has to be my business partner. In other words, when it comes to the double-edged sword of accounts payable and accounts receivable, it goes without saying that our priorities have to align with one another's. If they don't, if the household starts running in the red month after month after month, sure as shootin' the creditors will come a knockin'; and should that happen, there's the high probability that marital problems will arise."

Concurring, Paula knowingly quipped, "You've got that right, Ginger. There's no getting around the fact that money problems have caused the demise of a lot of marriages."

"Okay. So, tell me. What's this third criteria of yours?"

"Plain and simple - sex, and plenty of it.

"I'll grant you that it's by far the least important of the three, but nonetheless, a healthy, active and ongoing sexual relationship is more or less akin to the icing on the cake."

"Yeah... I agree. You're certainly right about that. Sex, especially if it's good, sort of rounds out the equation.

"Oh, and speaking of sex, in so far as this bisexual business of yours is concerned, Ginger, I just realized that I may know a young lady who might be just what you're looking for, in that she might be right up your alley."

With a voice that fairly gushed with eager excitement, Ethan stammered, "You do, do you?"

"Yes. I do believe I do.

'You see, Ginger, my wife has this twenty-four year old niece, who, according to her mother, has exhibited a marked tendency to have swung both ways in the past."

'Oh, she has, has she?"

"That's my understanding."

"Is she pretty?"

"Actually, she's more on the cute side of being pretty, than what you might call pretty itself. Basically, I'd say she's cute and spunky; and that's cute and spunky in a very wholesome, outdoorsy, tomboyish sort of way.

"However, I can tell you that she can look absolutely gorgeous when she puts her mind to it. Trouble is, as far as my wife and I are concerned, she rarely puts her mind to it..."

"I think I get the picture," Ethan interjected. "Basically, she's what you might call your typical jeans and sweatshirt kind of a girl?"

"Make that sweatshirt a T-shirt, and you've pretty much got the picture."

"She sounds interesting. Tell me, is she seeing anyone at present?"

"No... Not that I'm aware of..."

"And, do you really think that the two of us might hit it off?"

"Yes... Yes, I do. In fact, given everything you've been telling me about yourself, I do believe that the two of you will hit it off just fine."

"All right... So, tell me. When do I get to meet her?"

"Oh, I don't know. How does shortly after we get off this plane sound to you?"

Taken completely off guard by Paula's unexpected response, Ethan stammered, "You're kidding me, right?"

"No. I'm not kidding you at all. There's a better than a fifty-fifty chance that she will have driven my wife out to the airport to pick us up.

"You see, the young lady in question works as my wife's special assistant. In other words, Ginger, Amber - which, by the way, just happens to be the girl's name. - to a large degree functions as a highly paid step-'n-fetch-it. That's to say that whenever she's not out of town, playing gal-pal to one or another of our top-flight models, she basically does whatever my wife tells her to do, which generally entails chauffeuring my wife to and from work. That's why I tend to believe that she'll be there, driving either the agency limo or Astro Van.

"So, I'll tell you what we'll do. If you think you might be interested in the possibility of pursuing a relationship with her, you just let me know, and I'll have my wife make it Amber's job to show you around during your stay in LA. And, by the same token, if you find that you're not interested, tell you what I'll do: I'll have my wife assign somebody else from the agency to show you the sights.

"Better yet. As long as Janice doesn't have me lined up for something that she has yet to tell me about, I'd be more than happy to show you around myself..."

+++++

A few moments later, Paula began to chuckle to herself, prompting a very self-conscious Ethan to quizzically inquire, "Tell me, Paula. Did I just do something funny, something that I must confess that I am completely unaware of doing?"

Suppressing a laugh, Paula giddily replied, "No, not at all, Ginger. Trust me. I'm not laughing at you."

"That's a relief, given the fact that I can be a real klutz sometimes.

"So, if you doing mind my asking, what's so funny? I mean, why are you sitting there chuckling to yourself like that?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about something that struck me as being rather humorous..."

"Would you care to share it with?"

"I most certainly would, especially so since I plan to enlist your help in playing a little prank on my wife."

"Exactly what kind of prank do you have in mind? I mean, the last thing I want to do is to get on the wrong side of your wife, seeing that I really want her modeling agency to represent me."

"You needn't worry about that, Ginger. Look, while my wife might appear to be the head honcho, in that she functions as the CEO, the truth of the matter is that the agency belongs to the both of us. That's to say that while she attends to the day-in, day-out business of running the place, when it comes to major decisions, be advised, we both have to sign off on them.

"So, if you're worried about a job, don't. It's like I told you before; the job's yours if you want it.

"Besides, if my wife does get bent out of shape over this prank I want to pull on her, which, by the way, I really don't think she will, I'll take full responsibility for it. I'll simply tell her that you didn't want to do it, but that I cajoled you into helping me. I'll just tell her that I led you to believe that your future association with our modeling agency hung in the balance."

"Does it?" Ethan felt compelled to inquire.

"No, not at all. It's like I've just said. The job's yours if you want it, whether you help me with this prank or not..."

"Good. I'm certainly glad to hear that.

"So, tell me. What did you have in mind?"

"Well..." Paula thoughtfully launched in to her preamble. "While I usually don't go in for practical jokes as a rule, I do believe that this rather unique situation of ours shouldn't go to waste..."