Synopsis:

Following the events of "Trick or Treat?", Jamie must decide her future and see where his changes take her.

Story:

Trick or Treat 2 - Descent

By: Enigma

Edited by Joan W (Thanks, Joni!)

This story follows directly after the events related in "Trick or Treat?", and will be much better understood if that account is read before reading this.

Sunday, Nov. 1

My back was starting to hurt, and I had to pee. I was crouched on our kitchen floor, still clutching Sandy to me, mashing her against my ample breasts, rocking her, trying to project comfort into her chilled body. Behind me, Amy had her arms around both of us. Our tears had finally dried up, but I could tell that Sandy was still desolate, and I doubted Amy was doing much better. I knew I wasn't. And I wondered, not for the first time, and probably not for the last, how I had become the middle girl in this girl sandwich.

You see, two months ago, I was your average guy. Not a hunk, but not a wimp either. Good job, reasonably handsome, and happily married to the gorgeous girl hugging me from behind, Amy, the girl of my dreams. And we were happy, really happy together and very much in love. I truly felt Amy was the other half of my soul, and she felt the same about me. There was one main flaw in the perfect picture. Sandy, Amy's long-standing best friend, hated me. Oh, not me specifically, men in general. She thought we were all heartless bastards, good for nothing but hard labor and fucking (literally and/or figuratively). She had been hostile to me ever since I started dating Amy, long before we married. As much as Amy tried to convince her that many men, including me, aren't like she thought, Sandy was too bitter to believe.

Out of Sandy's prejudice and Amy's intense desire to achieve peaceful coexistence and hopefully friendship between her hubby and her best friend grew a complicated scheme that Sandy insisted was the only way I could overcome her enmity.

Basically, I had to become a woman. Well, not quite completely. I got to keep my male organs, but other than that, I was to become so nearly a woman that I could fool an entire gathering of people at an annual Halloween party. And if I could do that without masculine histrionics, she vowed to give friendship and trust a chance. To Sandy, I was figuratively giving up my manhood, temporarily, to prove my worthiness.

Halloween was yesterday, and I should be starting the return to manhood by now, but, as we should have guessed, there are complications. At the moment, as far as anyone could tell, I am Amy's double and live-in friend, or visiting twin, or whatever they assume. And it was looking like that could be permanent.

Complications? Nothing serious. Not! Just that I may have been given so much estrogen and anti-androgens that my male reproductive organs have shut down and may be damaged beyond repair. Just that I have been raped not once, but twice since becoming a woman. And just that I may be falling in love with another man. A kind, understanding man that first became my friend, then became something more.

And soon I must decide if I will stay Jamie, or try to return to James. If the latter is even possible.

Geez, if I keep this up, I'm gonna dissolve into tears again. Damn female hormones! I've cried more in the last two months than in the first 28 years of my life.

I gave Sandy one last squeeze, kissed Amy soundly, and struggled out of our tangle so I could hurry off to the bathroom. I did my thing, and as I washed up, noticed my red puffy eyes and streaked makeup in the mirror over the sink. Liberal use of makeup remover, and a good scrubbing with cold water, and the mirror image was somewhat improved.

I noticed the scale as I was finishing up. Absent-mindedly I stepped on. A week ago, I had been 123 pounds, a long way down from the 145 I had been when this all started back in August. This time I was down another four pounds, to 119. I had never been a heavyweight, but now I was what, six pounds or so less than the last weight I knew for Amy.

As I exited the bathroom, I saw my reflection in the full-length mirror. What I saw was a beautiful woman, even without makeup and with tousled golden blonde hair, dressed in a sheer robe that really didn't hide much. Even between my legs I looked female, thanks to the gaff/fake vagina that I wore.

This was the image of my wife. But this wasn't my wife, it was me. I was the one that succumbed twice to men in situations that could have ruined my wife's career. I was the one who, willing or not, had cheated on our marriage. I was the one who had professed to my avowed life mate that I was in love with another person. I was disgusted by what I saw in the mirror. I needed to hide.

I stripped off the robe and found the solvent that let me remove the gaff. Looking in the mirror again, I was relieved that I now showed at least some difference from Amy.

I searched my drawers and finally found some old sweats. They were bulky enough to obscure my curves. They hung loosely from my slimmed waist, but my broader hips and fanny kept them from falling off.

The image in the mirror now looked like Amy wearing sweats. But at least it hid some of these feminine curves.

I made my way to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and slumped into one of the chairs. Moments later, I heard the front door close, and then Amy stood in the kitchen doorway. I looked up at her, so beautiful, so loving, so much what I wanted in life. And I hung my head in shame, no longer able to look at her.

Amy sobbed, "Oh, God, you must hate me!" and I heard her bare feet running to the bedroom, and the bedroom door slamming. Her anguish wrenched at my core, and despite my personal shame, I hurried after her, finding her sobbing on our bed. I crawled in beside her, pulling her to me, murmuring assurances to her, willing my love into her. I fought back my own tears that were threatening to spill, knowing that this woman in my arms was the most important thing in the world, and whatever I felt, I must preserve and protect her.

When she finally calmed, I whispered "Don't you dare blame yourself for what has happened! I went into this with my eyes open. I made all the choices. And I am the one that made a hash of it all!" A sob erupted from my throat. "I love you. I need you. I need you to be strong, not burdened with guilt! I cannot survive this without you!"

Amy drew back and looked at me. "You still love me?" I nodded. "Even after all that has happened to you, all that I have done to you?" There she was again, blaming herself, but I was fighting so hard to hold back my tears that all I could do was nod.

She sighed, and pulled me close again, burrowing her head against my neck. She started stroking my back soothingly. Then little kisses on my neck. We stayed that way for awhile, then her hands became a little bolder, roaming over the curves hidden under the baggy sweats, and eventually slipping under the top to stroke my skin directly. For a while, this was comforting, and I just floated in a numb haze, but as Amy got bolder, trying to arouse me, it didn't feel right. We had always had a wonderful relationship and a great sex life together. We often used sex to sooth each other, to draw the other from depression or sorrow as well as to share our joy. Now, for the first time, it revolted me.

"No!" I pulled away, and rolled so my back was toward her. "I'm sorry, I can't." Amy was silent for a while. Our connection was so close that I knew I had hurt her with my rejection, but I couldn't help it. After a time, I felt a gentle, tentative touch on my back, and involuntarily flinched.

"James, what is it?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Amy, I just can't do that kind of thing right now."

"Oh…" there was a pause. "Can I just hold you?" The pain in her voice tore at me, and I weakly nodded, then felt her slide against my back and wrap her arms around me. We cuddled for a long time, each wrapped in our own pain, unable to break through to the other. That scared me almost as much as my rejection of her touch, but I didn't know what to do about it. Could it be that this was driving a wedge between us? I hoped not, losing Amy would be the end of my world.

I finally dozed off. I roused slightly when I felt Amy slide out of bed, but was soon asleep again. When I woke, the light through the window was dimming, and Amy was shaking my shoulder.

"Here, love, I brought you some soup. You really need to eat something." She leaned down to kiss my cheek, then helped me shift around so I could sip the contents of the mug, and nibble on the cheese and crackers she set next to me.

I managed to say thanks before she left the room. As soon as I finished, I rolled over and fell into a troubled sleep.

Monday, Nov. 2

Of course, Amy had to work the next day. When I awoke, the bed was empty, and the house quiet. Glancing at the time, I saw she would have left a while ago. I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I didn't feel like eating, but decided a walk would help clear the cobwebs.

The weather was cooling off, finally, so I squirmed into one of Amy's long sleeved leotards, and pulled on a pair of her sweat pants. Looking in the mirror, I saw an attractive woman again. Not what I wanted right now, but there wasn't much I could do. I rebelled against the thought of reattaching the gaffe to complete the look, so the sweats would just have to mask that problem.

As I approached the bench where I often met Paul, I was torn about whether I wanted to see him today or not. I was really mixed up in my head right now. I was really glad I would be seeing Dr. Simmons tomorrow. Hopefully he would forego some of his psychobabble and give me some real advice for a change. I desperately needed it.

"Hi!" I was so deep in thought I hadn't seen Paul waiting for me, so I started at his greeting. I cringed inside. How was I supposed to handle this right now?

"Hi."

"You OK?" I looked up to see him peering intently at me.

"Yeah. Just a lot on my mind today. Sorry. Probably won't be very good company."

He fell in step with me and smiled a wry grin, "Oh, from my position, the company is fine." I just blushed and continued walking.

"So, how did the party go?" Damn, right to the sore spot!

"Um, Paul, please, I don’t want to talk about that right now. Like I said, I've got a lot of things to work out in my mind."

I could tell he was a little hurt, but all he said was "OK."

We walked the entire two circuits in silence, but before I could split off to head for home, he grabbed my arm to hold me steady, and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Jamie, I know you've got troubles. I just want you to know, if you need someone to talk to, or to help in any way, call me." I couldn't answer. I just pulled my arm away and ran for home.

When I got inside and locked up, I slumped back against the door, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor. I buried my face in my hands and sat there for I don't know how long.

Finally pulling myself together, at least a little, I got up and went to the kitchen to fix coffee. Holding a cup between my hands to ward off a chill that didn't come from the temperature outside, I wandered into my office to check e-mail. I found one from last week from my contract client. Darn, I couldn't afford to let this stuff slide!

Opening the e-mail, I found that they had approved the last phase of the project I was working for them, and had forwarded the scheduled payment to my bank. That cheered me up a bit. Of course, it had only passed the preliminary testing so far; there might be more work on that later before the final payment came. They also had included the specification for the next phase.

I tried to settle down and study the spec, to see what they expected of me in this next phase. I had worked through this with them before, and the schedule was based in part on my input, so I didn't expect any problems. But they had ironed out a lot of the detail, and I had to understand the specific goals before I could produce work of the quality I expected, never mind their expectations.

It was no use, though. Every few minutes I would find myself distracted by one thing or another. Finally, I decided I wouldn't make progress with my contract task until I had a little peace in my own mind.

The biggest problem was coming to grips with what I considered to be my rape. I'm not sure that legally it was, but I wasn't interested in legal technicalities at the moment. I also did not have the first clue how to deal with it. Hopefully Dr. Simmons could begin helping me tomorrow. I knew I felt violated. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. I also wondered to what extent I had invited it. Was it my fault? Oh, I knew Dr. Albert was a scumbag, but maybe it was I. I was getting too depressed thinking about that one, so I decided to leave it for the expert tomorrow.

So, what's next? Ah yes, the minor issue of gender, and whether I would ever be any kind of a man again. Right at the moment, my prospects looked kind of bleak. I got the feeling that Sandy figured the damage was too severe to recover, but that she hadn't given up all hope yet. So what do I do about it?

I turned back to my computer and started searching for transgender information on the web, figuring that if I couldn't go back then I fit somewhere in this category. Let me tell you, there is a lot on the net. I was amazed. I read a lot, some believable, some not. But choosing what I accepted with some care, I started to develop a better picture of what was happening to me. Eventually, I followed some links that led me to resources local to my area, including support groups, TG-friendly stores, bars, counselors (Rick Simmons was on the list), and medical services. I saved this link so I could come back later, and began reading the information available about each. I wondered how best to learn more about the local TG scene. I wasn't ready to stand up in front of a support group and confess, "My name is Jamie, and I am a transsexual," or some such nonsense. I already had a psychologist to work with, and I'd had more than enough help from a doctor, thank-you very much. I wasn't interested in buying clothes. I had too many already, and hadn't needed to shop in special tg-friendly stores up to now. Then I got to the bars. I'm not a big one for the bar scene, but maybe I could find someplace to make some casual acquaintances that are TS, maybe find someone to talk to, some first-hand experience. Some help knowing what to expect.

Scanning the list of social clubs, I read the brief description of each, which normally included the kind of clientele they attract. Some were mostly gay and/or lesbian, some mainly attracted transvestites. Not many seemed oriented to the transgendered. As I scanned the list, one caught my eye. Mikaela's, a tg-friendly watering hole. Tv, tg, gay, lesbian, she-males welcome. I shuddered at the visceral reaction I had to that term. She-male. But technically that's what I am now. I looked at the address and realized it was not far from the Parkridge Mall that I had frequented so much these last two months.

Glancing at my watch I realized it was past noon, and I suddenly remembered I had an appointment with Sandy at one. Here I was still in my walking clothes. Oh, well, guess that means no lunch. I wasn't feeling much like eating anyway.

In the bathroom, I stripped, and gave myself a spit bath. No time for a real shower. I found panties and a bra, plainest I came across, added a baggy T-shirt, some jeans (nothing baggy about them, but they were looser than last time I wore them), slipped into my cross-trainers without socks, and headed out the door.

I made it on time to Sandy's office, but she was running late, so I had to sit for a while. My mind wandered, back to the episode with Jerry, about how I lost control and gave him a blowjob. At the time, he thought I was Amy, and I sure had looked the part. I cringed at what that might have done to Amy's career. But Amy took care of it. Then the Halloween party, and how Dr. Albert blackmailed me into oral, then anal, sex, believing that I was Amy. Twice now, I could have destroyed her career, and twice she had salvaged the situation. I felt like a slut, and it disgusted me. I had to do something to make sure that I didn't put Amy in that position any more. I had to stop looking like her. I had to make sure no one mistook me for her again, since I apparently couldn't keep myself out of compromising situations. I figured I was too weak to keep a vow to never let it happen again, so instead I vowed that if it did (more likely, when it did), there would be no confusing me with Amy.

Besides, if I was going to be stuck like this, it wouldn't do to be my wife's double. I had to decide what my style was, and it shouldn't be a copy of Amy's. After all, a big part of my decision about completing a transition or going back to James would hinge on how comfortable I could be in a female persona. So it had to be MY female persona, not Amy's.

The nurse called my name, and led me back to Sandy's office. A few minutes later, Sandy strode in with a very professional air, which made me feel better. A quick greeting and it was down to brass tacks.

"Well, these tests don't show any significant change, not that I really expected anything startling so soon. Testosterone levels are up slightly, but that might just be normal fluctuation. These levels are still much lower than the average woman your age. Estrogen levels, on the other hand have come down, but are still above the normal range, even for a teenage girl at the peak of puberty. So, these results are about what I expected, but we need to keep better track now. In fact, I would like you to start seeing an endocrinologist, and start treating this the way we should have from the beginning. Dr. Myers is a member of our group, and is one of the top people in the field locally." She paused, and looked closely at my face for the first time, to gauge my reaction. "I've checked, and if you are free, Sol, um, Dr. Myers can see you next Wednesday, just over a week from now, at two. Also, he would like you to stop in to leave a blood sample this Friday." She looked nervously away, waiting for a response.

"Sure, Sandy, I can do that if this is what you think is best."

She took a deep breath, and switched subjects. "Look, James, I feel terribly guilty about what I have done to you. I know now how poorly I treated you, and I want so much to make up for it."

When she paused to take a breath I asserted quietly "It's Jamie for now."

That caused her to flinch a little, but she continued, "Sol is the best thing I can think to recommend right now. If anyone has a chance to salvage my mistake, he is the one."

"OK, Sandy. I trust you." She flinched again. "Before, you mentioned the possibility of testosterone therapy, could that help now?"

She paused to consider. "I think we had best leave that up to Sol. There is a risk associated with a testosterone supplement. The body seems to decrease production of the hormone when a supplement is administered. Right now, I would think we want to encourage your body to produce as much as it is willing to on its own. Later, if that proves inadequate…", she looked down with a guilty expression, "then it may be our best recourse. Again, those are decisions Sol can help you with better than I can."

"OK, Sandy. Thanks for being honest." I looked at her, but she couldn't meet my eyes. "Now, I have a favor to ask of you."

She looked up in surprise. "Um, sure, Jam…, uh, Jamie. Anything."

It was my turn to look away. I wasn't sure how she would take this. "I want you to help me look different. I need to stop looking like Amy. I want you to change my face."

She sat back and steepled her fingers, considering before she spoke. "I thought Rick advised you not to make changes before we determined if you could, um, you know…"

"He did, and generally I agree. I am not asking you to make my face the way it was, just tweak it enough so that people won't mistake me for Amy."

"Why?"

"First, if I am stuck this way, I don't want to do it as Amy's clone. I need a look of my own, and getting comfortable with that look will have a big bearing on any decision I make." Then I blushed and looked down before mumbling "And twice now, I've done things, reprehensible things, while people thought I was Amy. I can't take that chance again."

Sandy didn't answer quickly, finally saying, "OK, at least we can discuss it. I am not sure I agree with your reasoning, but I can understand your concern, and I owe you, big time." She paused again. "I'll send the nurse back in with the digital camera to take snaps of your face, and run them through my computer to see what I can do with the least trauma. Come back tomorrow at six PM and we'll talk about what I can do."

The nurse turned my face this way and that to get all the angles Sandy would need for analysis, then showed me out. It was after two o'clock, and I couldn't face going back to reading the spec at home. So I pulled out my cell phone and called Life Style, the salon that had done my hair several times, to see if my stylist, Ellie, could fit me in this afternoon. She was due to be off work at five, but was willing to see me then, if that would work. So I agreed, and headed off to the mall.

I still didn't feel like eating, but my tummy was complaining, so I stopped in the food court and bought a salad. I didn't eat much, but at least it filled the hollow a little and stopped the rumble.

I still had a couple hours to fill, so I wandered the mall, window shopping, trying to decide what kind of clothes would make me comfortable. I sure as hell didn't want to attract the kind of attention I had gotten from Jerry or Dr. Albert, but I also wasn't going to dress like an old maid. I wanted a casual look for everyday, since my work didn't require business attire most of the time, and thought that would be kind of the beginning point. Once I found the style for everyday, I figured I could move from there into the business attire, dressy stuff for going out, and whatever else I needed.

I considered, and discarded a lot of outfits as I wandered. Nothing seemed to say "Me". But then, I wasn't sure what "me" was these days. I was headed back toward Life Style when I saw an outfit that caught my eye. I stepped into the store to look closer. The pants were silk, in a hunter green, flowing loosely over the legs. It had a pale green sleeveless silk top with a crew neck, embroidered ivy leaves in hunter green cascading around the neck and tapering down the center. The last piece was a lightweight long sleeved sweater, green to match the pants. I still had a few minutes before five, so I grabbed one in my size and headed to the changing rooms.

It fitted well, and as I looked in the mirror, I liked what I saw. Not flashy, not slutty, but attractive. I couldn't remember Amy ever wearing something quite like this, so that was a plus as well. I quickly changed back to my T and jeans, paid for the outfit, and scurried off to the salon.

I called and left a message for Amy that I would be a little late tonight, so maybe she could pick up Chinese takeout or something for dinner?

I was shown back to Ellie's station after just a few minutes. It had only been a couple days since I was here, but with all that had happened, it seemed longer.

"So, what do you have in mind today? Oh, and by the way, how did the party go Saturday?"

I tried to suppress a grimace, but I don't know if Ellie saw it or not. "The hair looked just great with the costume, Ellie. Thanks so much for doing it up for me. Um, today, I want to go for something different. A different look, different color I think. A style that will let me keep most of the length, but will be easy to take care of. Any ideas?"

"Hmmm. Well, how drastic a change in color? Maybe back to your original? Or maybe a medium brown?"

"No, I don't think so. My natural color is too close to what it is now, and a medium brown would be too close to Amy's original color. What would you think of me as a redhead? Or maybe with black hair?"

Ellie considered. "I don't think your skin tone would look natural with red. It might be OK with black." She thumbed through a stylebook, and came up with a picture of a model with sleek straight hair, longer in back, and tapering forward to just skim the shoulders. "How about this? This is similar to a pageboy. I think you have enough length to do it. And it leaves you lots of options. It would work easily into a pony tail, or could be put up for a dressy occasion."

I tried to imagine what it would look like on me. "OK, let's do it." For the next while I was washed, dried, dyed, snipped, and combed. When she finished, I thought it looked a little like Cher, before she grew her hair really long. I liked it.

As I drove home, I wondered what Amy would think. It made me feel good. Not about myself, I still had issues about what I had done. But I felt good that I was protecting the woman I loved. But this was only the first step.

I was greeted by the smell of Chinese as I walked in the front door. I took my package to the bedroom, then made my way to the kitchen. Amy was setting things out for dinner. When she saw me, she said "Oh, wow!"

I turned my head from side to side. "You like?"

"Um, yeah? Why, though?"

"I decided part of any decision about the future would involve knowing if I could find a style that I could live with as a woman. And I felt, to be fair to you, that it had to be something different. It was fun, at least part of the time, looking like your twin, but it wasn't me. I have to find out if I can even be me as a woman."

We served the various dishes onto our plates and moved to the table before Amy spoke again. "Uh, so, does this mean you learned something from Sandy today?"

"No, not really. The tests were inconclusive. Improved, but not enough to be encouraging. She has me set up with Sol Myers next Wednesday. She wants an expert to handle this."

"Well, that's probably best." She took a couple bites. "So, what else are you planning to change? I mean, you know, besides your hair?"

"I bought a new outfit today, while I was waiting for my appointment. I'll show you after dinner." I didn't feel good about keeping my discussion with Sandy from her, but I didn't feel good about myself, or the things I had done that reflected poorly on Amy either.

After a few more bites, Amy spoke up. "I have some news from work! It seems that our beloved group director has quite surprisingly tendered his resignation. Everyone was shocked. Seems he intends to pursue other interests back east."

All I could do was grunt as my gut clenched. The rest of dinner passed pretty much in silence. I only ate a little. It tasted good; I just wasn't up to eating much.

After we put the leftovers away and cleaned up, Amy followed me into the bedroom, and I pulled off my outer clothes to model the new outfit for her. She was impressed, thought they looked good on me, with my new hair color.

As I took the new clothes off and hung them up, she came up behind me and slipped her arms around me. "Hey, I haven’t had a kiss yet today. You mad at me?" I noticed she was very careful to keep her hands to "safe" areas after last night. I was glad of that, but it made me sad that there was this barrier between us. I turned in her arms, and kissed her gently. She tried to put a little more passion into the kiss, but I pulled back and whispered, "No, please." She looked a little hurt. I leaned forward and gave her another very gentle kiss. "Can we just take it slow for awhile?"

Amy sighed, "OK."

I was exhausted, emotionally more than physically I think, so I just got ready for bed. Amy went off to the living room to read or something. I was asleep before she got into bed.

Tuesday, Nov. 3

I woke before Amy for a change. I kissed her gently on the cheek, and she sighed, but didn't wake. I used the bathroom, then went to fix breakfast. The coffee and toast were just ready when Amy came out. She gave me a desperate bear hug, and a quick but forceful kiss before breaking away to eat.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I just need some time to get through this."

"I know love. What hurts worst is that I don't know how to help you. I'm just glad you're seeing Rick today. I really, really hope he can help."

"Me too!"

I cleaned up while Amy finished getting ready, then gave her a light kiss that left us both unsatisfied.

I got into an exercise outfit similar to yesterdays, and headed out for a walk. I decided I needed to apologize to Paul for yesterday, but tell him until I got my head screwed on right that maybe I shouldn't see him. I was half disappointed and half relieved when he did not meet me today. I tried to push my pace a little, but was feeling pretty weak. I was winded by the time I got home. Then I realized I had hardly eaten since the party Saturday. Any thought of food just made me slightly ill.

I showered and slipped into shorts and a T-shirt. I was determined to make some progress on that spec today. I buried myself in work, surfacing after noon to eat an apple, then diving in again till three, when I had to get ready for my appointment with Dr. Simmons. I kept it casual again today. I was not particularly interested in looking like a pretty girl, but since I was modeled on Amy, there wasn't much way to avoid it.

Before I left, I called Amy and left a message I would be too late for dinner, due to some things I had to take care of, so she should eat without me.

I was ushered into Rick's office just a few minutes late, and settled into the overstuffed chair. Rick started things off.

"So, what do we need to discuss today?"

"Um. Uh. Weren't we supposed to talk about how to either become James or Jamie? Uh, depending on medical issues?"

"That's what we said last week. Is that what we should talk about though?"

"Have you been talking to Amy?" I was a little upset to think Amy had been discussing my problems with someone behind my back.

"Yes, she did call to say she was very concerned about you. She said there was a problem at the party Saturday, but didn't go into details."

I was feeling like a caged rat about then, but Rick's chair was between me and freedom. "Um, I'd rather not go into that right now." I couldn't figure out why I was avoiding the thing I most needed Rick's help with, till I realized it was embarrassing to admit the things I had done.

"Then that is exactly what we should work through today." Maybe they teach these guys something in school after all. "Take your time. Just let it out and we'll see how best to deal with it. Hiding it away is rarely the right way."

So, in fits and starts I managed to sketch a less than coherent tale of my shame. How I was summoned as Amy to an unused room where Dr. Albert was waiting. How he attempted to blackmail Amy. How I gave him what he wanted, submitting to first oral, then anal sex. How Amy interrupted, and my subsequently passing out, finally coming to after Dr. Albert left, and being helped home by Amy and Sandy. Because it was such a difficult tale to tell, my throat seemed to close up periodically, shutting off the sporadic flow of words for a time, so it took quite awhile to relate the story. Rick was mostly silent, but would ask occasional questions when I seemed to stall, or when what I said didn't make any sense. Fortunately there was a box of tissues and a wastebasket handy, because I must have used most of a box.

When my words finally dried up, and Rick had given me a reasonable silence in case I could think of anything to add, he spoke.

"Let me guess. You feel dirty. You feel like a tramp. You think this was all your fault. You feel you are now unworthy of Amy, or indeed, anyone decent. How am I doing?"

Each of his points struck me like a blow. Not because he was being cruel, but because he was baring my soul. Bringing my shameful secrets to light. I couldn't speak, only look at him through red puffy eyes.

So he continued, "Also, you know logically, in your mind, that none of that is true. But you believe those things in your heart, no matter what your mind says. No matter what I say. No matter what Amy says."

I could only sob and nod.

Rick leaned forward and clasped both my hands with his. "This is the great crime that is rape. It is not so much the violation of the body, but the rending of the spirit that makes rape such an ugly sin. It too often leaves the victim feeling they are to blame, when in fact that is almost always untrue. This is the struggle that takes place in nearly every rape recovery. The victim has to be convinced, they must come to accept, not just with the mind, but with the heart that they are not at fault."

My mind believed, had always believed, but my heart knew this not to be true. It knew there was some character flaw in me that led me to what I had done. And I knew I would do it again, and again, until I destroyed Amy, or at least her love for me. I knew the only way to save what was most precious to me was to get away. But I was too weak. I couldn't face life without Amy.

Rick spent much more than our hour trying to draw me into seeing it wasn't me at fault. He kept asking me questions that my mind could answer the way he wanted, but my heart knew that lies fell from my lips. Eventually he had to call an end to the appointment, but confirmed that I should be back here Friday. So I was finally able to escape.

Well, it was almost time to be at Sandy's office, so I drove there, and sat numbly in the car till time to see her.

Her office was quiet when I entered. It was easy to tell that this was after hours, but her nurse was still there, and led me back to her office. Sandy was already there, studying something on her computer screen. She looked up as I came in, noted my puffy red eyes, and gave a weak little smile. "You OK?"

"No. I just got away from Dr. Simmons, and I feel like shit, pardon the language."

"Oh, I see. Well, um, shall we get to the reason you're here?" She stood and moved around to the chair next to me, pulling her monitor and mouse around so we could both see the screen. It showed two pictures side by side. My old face and Amy's face. I stared at them, trying to discern what made them different.

"People recognize faces based on a multitude of features, which are sorted and catalogued by the brain to identify an individual. Some features make a face more masculine, or more feminine. Now, in your case, we modified certain elements of your original face…" She highlighted several points on my face using the mouse, "to make it resemble Amy's."

"OK, you explained that before."

"Yes, OK. So now, you want to look different than Amy, but until the final medical disposition, not the more major transition back to your old likeness. Just minimal changes to produce a face others will not identify as Amy."

"That's right."

"OK, I have worked with many women to 'correct' supposed flaws in their faces, so I have done something like this frequently. Because we want to minimize the trauma, we are looking for minimally invasive procedures to effect the change. Basically, what we have to work with are implants, and injectables such as collagen. We can remove implants we inserted before, or insert new ones. Both are more traumatic than we are looking for right now. Another option is to shift the implants we used earlier. For small relocations, this is relatively low impact. Finally, change the contours with collagen. I know this is pretty boring, but are you still with me?"

I nodded.

"OK. To get specific, what I would recommend is this." She replaced my original face with a new one. This one was of a pretty girl, but she didn't look like Amy. "To get this result…" Was she really trying to tell me she could rearrange my face to look like this? "We can shift this implant forward a bit to reshape the cheekbone, shift those in your chin like this, shift these just a little." All the time she was highlighting points on Amy's picture. "The collagen we injected to give you Amy's lips will not be absorbed completely for several more months, so we can't easily reduce your lips, but by careful injections we can reshape them here and here, making them only slightly fuller, but making the shape noticeably different."

"Wow, just those subtle changes can do this?" Sandy nodded. "What's the impact? Bruising? Pain? Scarring? Time to heal?"

"There will be some bruising, but much less than last time. It should fade quickly, to the point that you could hide it with makeup in three or four days. Some pain, but just consistent with the bruising, nothing that should require any pain meds. In less than a week, with only a little makeup, it should be hard for anyone to tell it was done."

"I'm sold. When can we do it?"

"I had kind of planned on right now, if you are agreeable. I asked my nurse to stay late to assist."

Two hours later, it was done, and my face felt like it had been worked over by a prizefighter. Sore here, puffy there. Sandy kept me there a while longer to make sure I was OK, then closed up shop and we went our separate ways.

Amy heard me come in, and hurried to meet me. She stopped dead when she saw the bandages on my face, and the bruises that were just starting to appear. "What happened? Are you OK?" She rushed to me, almost pushed me into a chair, and started examining the damage to my face.

I grabbed her questing hands. "I'm fine, Amy. I just came from Sandy's office." It took me an hour to explain what and why, and as I had expected, she was upset. I just held her while she gave me a piece of her mind. She finally subsided, having of course realized there was nothing to be done about it now. I was feeling the aftermath of the procedures, and was exhausted, so Amy helped me to bed and I soon fell into a troubled sleep.

Wednesday, Nov. 4

It took me awhile to wake enough to remember why I was so sore the next morning. Amy was already in the shower when I staggered into the bathroom to examine the damage. The bruises had bloomed beautifully overnight. I was going to be quite colorful for a few days. Oh well, nothing for it. I did my thing and vacated before Amy climbed out of the shower. I still could not face her in a situation that had often led to arousal in the past.

We ate breakfast with little conversation, then she kissed me carefully before heading off for the day. Since I was in no mood to be seen like this, I had the perfect excuse to concentrate on my contract work. I'm not sure how I was able to maintain concentration today when I had failed so miserably yesterday, but I was pleased that I managed to. Not only was I able to make inroads in the task at hand, but also I was not continually dwelling on my problems.

The rest of the week passed much the same. I made good headway. I drafted a response e-mail with a list of problems foreseen and requests for clarifications on the spec, and was able to sketch out the structure of the work to be done. I let myself be absorbed by the work, and was grateful for it. I worked late every night, and had only limited interaction with Amy.

The problem was my sleep time. As well as I avoided worrying about my problems during working hours, they seemed to take over my mind during the night. I had weird, half-remembered dreams. I relived both rape sequences in my mind over and over again. Most disturbing, the scenes evolved, until I was not only enjoying the sex, I was initiating it. Though only shadow memories in the morning, this seemed to reinforce my contempt for myself, my conviction that I was poison to Amy.

By Friday, my thoughts were so negative I could not bear to face Rick, so I just remained buried in work. I did take a break to run down to Dr. Myers office to get blood drawn though.

By Saturday night, I had a good high level plan for what I would do for this phase of the contract, but was stalled waiting for a response to the issues I had submitted. All I could do was wait. I was ready for a break by now, anyway. I had been pretty worn out when this work marathon started, and I was much more so now. That night I crawled into bed and whispered to a drowsing Amy that I had reached a stopping point.

Sunday, Nov. 8

I awoke to the glorious smells of coffee and bacon. I found Amy doing the domestic thing in the kitchen. I stood and watched her for a while before she knew I was there. God, I loved this woman. How was I going to live without her?

Despite the negative direction of my thoughts, breakfast tasted wonderful. I was only able to eat a small part of it though, because having eaten so lightly recently, I had room for very little.

Conversation started very easily, with both of us dropping naturally into the comfortable patterns we had enjoyed for years. But that dried up when the conversation shifted. Amy asked how my appointment with Dr. Simmons went, and was quite upset when I told her I missed it Friday. After I had withstood all the chastising I could handle, I escaped to the bedroom, then out for a walk, leaving her brooding at the kitchen table.

It felt good to walk again. I had missed it the past few mornings, but my face was such a collage of colors I couldn't make myself go out where I might be seen. Today, the bruises were faded to the point that the walk was more important than my appearance. The swelling was going down too, and when I got back from the walk I removed the small bandages, revealing my whole face for the first time since Sandy's office.

After showering, I was curious to see the new me. The bruises were a definite distraction, so I wrapped myself in a robe and set about making up my face to hide most of the remaining discoloration. This was the first time since the party that I used any makeup, so I was feeling a bit rusty. I took it slow, and tried to make sure I did it right. I was so focused on each bit of makeup that I ignored the overall effect until I finished. I sat back and was stunned by my reflection.

This was no longer Amy's face. While Amy is a beautiful woman, this face was model material. Maybe it was the sunken cheeks from my light diet recently, or maybe it was Sandy's artistry. Or both. I decided I had to show Amy. But I had to dress to complete the effect. I knew just what to wear. I put on a lacey red bra and panties. Then decided to go all out, and put the garter belt on too. I pulled stockings up my legs, then went to the closet and slipped into my form-fitting red dress. Silver hoop earrings, and a silver chain with a locket that nestled in my considerable cleavage. Black four-inch heels completed the outfit. I brushed my hair for a long time, till it shone, and lay sleekly in the style Ellie had crafted for me.

I looked in the full-length mirror and wondered who this stranger was. It was almost too much for me. The last time around, after the first change, it was strange, but my reflection showed the face of the woman I loved. That made it easier somehow. Now I had no point of reference.

I walked out of our room and found Amy reading in the family room. She looked up at the sound of my heels on the floor and did a classic double take. It took a minute before she spoke, "Is that you, Jamie?"

"I'm not sure," was the best I could respond. "I don't know who I am right now. This is much more of a shock than I expected."

Amy rose slowly and moved up to me, examining this new creature carefully. "You're gorgeous!" she breathed. "This is so amazing!"

"I know. I don't want to be gorgeous. Gorgeous gets me in trouble."

Amy looked at me seriously, holding both of my hands in hers so I wouldn't turn away. "Jamie, I want you to promise me you will call and make an appointment with Rick tomorrow. And I want you to keep it!"

"Amy, I don't know. I just don't feel like it's helping. And it's so hard to talk about…"

"JAMES!" I jumped at the vehemence in her voice. "I think you need to see Rick, or someone else, if you're not comfortable with him. Please, honey? I don't want to lose you."

The pleading in her voice was too much for me, and I nodded my acquiescence.

Amy proposed Sunday dinner out, since I was all dressed for it. I was reluctant, but she insisted it would help me rebuild my confidence to be seen like this. So while she quickly showered and dressed, I made myself a good strong gin and tonic. Just a little bottled courage, if you know what I mean.

Amy emerged wearing the black twin to my dress, which looked great with her golden blond hair. I could tell that she had worn the corset to get the best fit from the dress, and thought a bit smugly that I hadn't needed one.

We went to a quiet, stylish restaurant, down by the river. Amy was right, every male we saw, man or boy, eyed us up and down. I thought I got a bit more of the attention, but, to be fair, my dress was brighter so it stood out more.

She was also right about it rebuilding my confidence, but not in quite the way she planned. Much as I tried to suppress it, as I felt each pair of male eyes mentally undressing me, I fleetingly wondered how it would feel to be undressed by him. To be held in his arms. To make love to him. This was just the type of feelings I had been trying to avoid this past week. I didn't want to feel this way. I was afraid of what it would do to Amy, to us. But somewhere deep down in my core, it reinforced my new perception of myself as a sex object. I knew that, based on the things I had done, it was all I was good for. I wasn't good for Amy. I could only cause her more pain.

My emotions were on a roller coaster the whole time we were there. Euphoric with the sexual feelings the lustful looks aroused, followed by despair over my future, and the future of my marriage. I was a nervous wreck by the time we left. Amy mistook my distress for nervousness about all the attention I was receiving, when in fact it was just the opposite. I actually reveled in the attention, and was distressed by that reaction.

Amy wanted to stroll along the river. Even in November, at least this time of afternoon, the temperature in this southwestern city was comfortable as we were dressed. Again, we were the focus of every male eye, and my internal conflict grew. Something had to give sooner or later, and finally it did. I continued to revel in my sexual role, and my concerns started to fade. Again Amy misinterpreted when I seemed to calm down, thinking I was just beginning to accept the admiration.

At any rate, I was grateful when Amy consented to return to the car and go home. I was ready for this experience to be over, and not a little concerned at what might come of it.

Back home, we removed our fancy dresses and lingerie, cleaned off our makeup, and donned comfortable lounging pajamas. Amy curled up in an easy chair by my desk while I used the computer to do more research on transgender resources. I stayed at it well into the night; long after Amy gave up and went to bed. This time I read more about the Benjamin Standards of Care, RLE (or RLT), and sex reassignment surgery. What I read was eye opening, and did nothing to tip the scales toward becoming fully female. But I knew that was not the only consideration, and the decision would rest on other criteria as well. I shuddered at the description and pictures of the surgery.

Finally exhausted, I crawled into bed beside Amy as she slept.

Monday, Nov. 9

Monday I walked again, and based on how I felt yesterday toward the end of our outing, I put more effort into looking good. Paul was waiting for me at his usual bench. His eyes passed over me, and kept watching the path behind me as I approached.

"Hi, Paul."

"Jamie? Is that you? My God, what happened to you?" His shocked remark stung, and my lower lip trembled. I couldn't answer; I just took off down the walking path. Paul caught up quickly, "Jamie, I'm sorry. Wait, please. You just surprised me is all."

I was still silent.

"Jamie, please! You look really good; it's just that you caught me off guard. I didn't recognize you until I heard your voice. Come on, please, Jamie, talk to me!"

I slowed down and took a deep breath before looking up into his face. His forlorn expression was so cute I might have giggled if I wasn't still hurting. I wasn't ready to forgive and forget just yet, but he was making progress.

"Nice to see you too, Paul."

"Look, I said I was sorry. What do you want from me? Do you want me down on my knees? You want me to beg? Do you want to kick me while I'm down? Bring it on, sister!"

That was it, a giggle did escape. I tried to recover my stern hurting look, but it was too late. Paul had a guardedly optimistic look. "Can we talk about this?"

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like maybe why I didn't recognize you when you walked right up to me?"

So we walked, and I talked, and with the questions Paul tossed in, we made the two circuits before I was finished explaining the whys and the wherefores. After the initial rocky start, the conversation settled down into the comfortable banter we enjoyed before the party, and it felt really good.

We went our separate ways. After cleaning up, I checked e-mail and found a response from work about my issues with the spec. They had worked out part of the problems, but the rest would have to wait a day or two. I spent the rest of the morning factoring the supplied information into my work plan, but finished that about one. I stretched, listening to my joints creak from too much time sitting at the desk.

Gathering my nerve, I picked up the phone and called Dr. Simmons office, and ended up with a new appointment for Wednesday morning.

After a salad for lunch I decided it was a good time to visit Mikaela's, since work was stalled. I put on my new pants outfit, applied my makeup carefully. This may be a TS/TV bar I was going to, but I still wanted to look like a real woman. Even in that environment I was scared of being 'read'.

I sat outside Mikaela's for a long time in my car, trying to work up my nerve. It seemed like a nice place. Had I not known its special clientele, it looked the kind of place James might have taken Amy. I screwed up my courage, got out of the car, and tried to make an unobtrusive entrance. Climbing onto a bar stool, I ordered a glass of white wine. While I sipped the wine, I casually looked over the place and the people. Nothing particularly odd stood out. I didn't see any clownish drag queens, or butch-looking lesbians. It was all so ordinary.

When the bartender came to ask about a refill, I queried, "This may be bad form, but I'm new here, so I'll just ask. Feel free to tell me if I've botched it. Can you tell me if there are any pre-op transsexuals here that might be willing to talk to me?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On why you want to talk to them."

"Um, I need to learn."

"For what?" came his almost hostile answer.

"For me." I said in a tiny voice.

He looked at me skeptically. "Really? You…?"

I nodded and blushed.

He broke out in a grin. "You had me fooled. And after all I've seen around this joint, that's pretty hard to do." He glanced around the bar, then piped up, "Erin!" and waved someone over. A very attractive young woman approached from one of the tables with a broad smile on her face.

"What can I do for you, Sam?" while at the same time looking me over.

"Not for me, for this young lady here. She's looking for some advice."

She climbed on the stool next to me, and studied me with a look of concentration. Finally she smiled, and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Erin."

I shook with her, "Jamie."

"Well, how can I help you?"

I blushed again. "If it's not too personal, are you really pre-op?" She nodded. "Um, would you mind talking with me about it?"

"OK, but lets move someplace a little more private." She pointed toward a secluded booth near the back.

I took my wine to the booth while Erin stopped by the table she'd come from and said something to the people there. Then she joined me.

"OK, what do you want to know?"

"So much, I don’t know where to start. But first, I guess, how did you know?"

She grinned even wider. "I didn't for sure until just now, but I had a hunch. The place, the questions, the nerves, and women's intuition."

"Oh."

"But you are really very good. Most people would never guess. Even me, if we hadn't been here."

"Thanks." I tried to figure out where to start. "I never would have guessed you either. But then, I don't have any experience at this kind of thing at all. Um. How long have you been dressing?"

"Full time, something over two years now. Before that, whenever I could, since I was a kid. You?"

I seemed to be blushing about everything in here. "Only two months."

"No! That's amazing. No, that's impossible!"

"Unfortunately not. I am the walking proof that it is possible, under the right circumstances. Um. Can we get back to you please?"

"OK, but I expect the full story one of these days."

"Maybe, when you have a lot of time on your hands, but it will just bore you."

"I don't think there's a chance of that! Anyhow, ask away."

"You're pre-op?" She nodded. "Do you plan the surgery soon?"

She looked down. "I'm saving up for it. It won't be very soon."

"Oh, are you anxious?"

She brightened "Yes, very!"

"Aren't you frightened? I read about the surgery last night, and came away absolutely terrified of the thought."

"Yes, I'm a little scared, but the surgery doesn't frighten me as much as staying the way I am. This is something I need. Something I don't feel I can live without. For me, it's not an option." She looked at me closely. "If it scares you that much, maybe it's not right for you."

I considered, "Well, if the alternative is to stay like this, I think I would want the surgery. I really don't like the term she-male applied to me."

She came back "Well, then, don't think of yourself that way. And don't let others refer to you that way. I don't. For me, this is just a temporary stop on the way to being whole."

"Oh."

"Look, Jamie. We all come from different places. And for all of us, different things are important. Some want the full package. For some, being a really good transvestite is right. Maybe that's your way."

We talked for another hour. Erin was a great girl. And there was no way I could ever think of her as anything BUT a girl. Finally I ran out of questions, and thanked her for being so helpful. I had a lot to digest.

She suggested that I come back on a Friday or Saturday night, when there were more of the regulars, and live music for dancing.

My mind was racing over what I had heard as I drove home. When I pulled into the driveway, I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten there. I changed into some grungy clothes, and checked e-mail. Still nothing about the contract. So I pitched in and got some housework done. Just before I expected Amy home, I had everything ready and holding for dinner, so I decided to check e-mail once more.

Damn, can things get any worse? I know, I shouldn't tempt fate with thoughts like that. But the e-mail I found said the issues I had raised with the spec had pointed to flaws in the architecture of the entire project, including the part I had already completed and submitted to test. They were insisting on a face-to-face meeting in their office, and it was scheduled for early Wednesday. They were within their rights under the contract. It's just that it happens so seldom that there was no way to predict it. Now, just how in the world was I going to pull this off? They had never met or even heard of Jamie, they had only dealt with James.

If I didn't show for the meeting, they would probably claim breach of contract, and I might be facing legal action, as well as loss of the work and damage to future opportunities. Oh, I might have pled illness to get the meeting postponed, but there was no chance I could delay long enough to appear as James.

I could show up as James' new 'partner' Jamie, effectively lying to them, but they probably would insist that James get his ass in there. They undoubtedly would not deal with some woman they had never met. Besides, I might be open to legal action if I lied.

Or, I could bite the bullet, and face them as the remade James, now called Jamie. If that backfired, it could ruin my career, especially if I was ever able to become James again. But there didn't seem to be a better option.

Knowing that this could be trouble, I figured I'd better talk my options over with my lawyer, Ken Gorman. He wrote up and approved all my contracts, and he was pretty sharp. So I put in a call to Ken's direct line, figuring he was still at work even at this hour. Fortunately I was right. I told him I was calling on behalf of James Hastings (well, I was! And it was easier than explaining!), that there was a potential problem with the terms of the contract he had drafted, and it was something of an emergency. Was there any way James could see him tomorrow? Fortunately, he had some time set aside late morning for working on preparations for another case. He could see James then. That made me feel a little better. But it also meant I would have to "come out" to Ken.

Amy arrived home while I was on the phone, and pecked me on the cheek, overhearing part of the conversation in the process. By the time I finished, she had a concerned expression, and wanted to know what was going on. I told her I would explain over dinner.

I finished fixing dinner while Amy changed into something comfortable. Her 'something comfortable' could have really revved my motor before the hormones did their thing. They even might have after, had it not been for the new image I carried deep inside. The dirty little tramp that circumstances had shown me to be. I couldn't defile this wonderful woman with an intimate touch.

Needless to say, I was pretty down by the time we sat across from each other to eat. I had trouble meeting her eye, and even more getting the words out to explain my current predicament. I also told her about my appointment with Rick, also for Wednesday morning, but that it would have to be postponed now. I could see she was relieved that I'd made the appointment, even if I couldn't keep it. The conversation was rather somber, and petered out before we finished eating. Or should I say, before Amy finished eating. All I could do was move my food around my plate, choking down only a couple bites.

Amy offered to clean up after dinner. I really hadn't left much of a mess, so I snatched the opportunity to flee to my office. Several hours and many tg-related websites later, a visibly sad Amy poked her head in the door to say she was off to bed. When she was gone, I almost cried for not being able to comfort her, to tell her how much I loved her. It was very late when I crawled into bed, and Amy was already asleep.

Tuesday, Nov. 10

I slept through Amy rising and preparing for work. She roused me with a gentle shake, and a kiss on the cheek when she was leaving. I had stayed up too late, and only wanted to sleep, but I needed to walk. I made it to the bathroom and did my business. Stepping on the scale, I saw I was down to 116. I really should start eating better, but food just held no appeal for me recently.

I pulled on panties and a sports bra, some powder blue tights, red short shorts, and a powder blue sweatshirt. Then I added some multi-color striped leggings. It was finally getting chilly out there, at least in the mornings. Socks and walking shoes, and I was out the door. Then I realized I hadn't eaten anything. Oh well, I didn't feel like eating anyway.

Paul was there, his face showing some anxiety. He tried to get me to talk to him, but I was pretty down, and couldn't muster more than a word or two in answer. Most of the way we walked in silence, but when I was about to split off toward home, he stopped me, turned me toward him, and looked searchingly into my eyes.

"What is it, Jamie? You seem so down. You look so different. Where is the beautiful girl I was falling in love with?"

I jerked away and snarled, "That was Amy you were falling in love with. This is me! Maybe you ought to go after her if you don't like what you see!" And whirled away and ran home barely able to see through the mist of tears in my eyes.

Oh God, I was losing Paul too. But that was for the best wasn't it? I was anathema. I was a tramp. I did awful things, had sex with other men. It was better that Paul should stay away. It was better that I should stay away from Amy. They were both such good people. They deserved so much better than me. Then it occurred to me. Since I can’t be with either of them, maybe they should be with each other. Paul already loved Amy, since I was an imitation of her when we met. Yes! I loved them both. What better way for the two people I loved to get over me then by helping each other. Loving each other. Making love to each other. Having kids together. Growing old together. All the things I thought I would have with Amy. Each new thought wrenched my heart, but I knew I had to help them, no matter how much it hurt inside. If I couldn't be with them I would rather they were together than alone, or with someone I didn't know or love.

I stood under the hot pounding shower for a long time, trying to burn the hurt out of me. And gradually a touch of hope began to grow. Just a bit of light in the darkness. I could see some happiness coming out of this mess, happiness for them, so in spite of my anguish, maybe I could be happy that they were happy. Finally I was able to gather my wits enough to get out of the shower. I was revived sufficiently that I could face preparing for the meeting with Ken. I had to look good for this. I had to convince Ken that this was right for me. I had to lay the groundwork for getting on with my life.

I selected a business suit that I thought looked especially nice on Amy, a light gray that I thought went will with my raven hair. I chose the lingerie to be sexy, black, trying to bolster my feminine self-image that has been in tatters. Nude pantyhose and medium black heels. I spent a lot of time on the makeup. I wanted it just right. Gold jewelry to add a little contrast to the grays and blacks. I decided to redo my nail polish, choosing a deep red, not too bright, but adding some color. I looked at the final result, and nodded in approval of the total effect. I strode determinedly to the car and set off for Ken's office.

"Hello, I have a 10:30 appoint with Mr. Gorman," I told the pretty receptionist.

She lifted her phone and dialed an extension. "Mr. Gorman, your 10:30 is here… OK." Turning to me she said, "He's ready for you, third door on the left."

I walked down the hall, fighting the urge to turn and run. I tapped at his closed door, then opened it and walked in. Ken looked at me, and a surprised look came over his face. "Oh, excuse me. I was expecting someone else. Can I help you?"

"Ken, it's me, James."

Ken looked confused. "Pardon?"

"It's me, James Hastings." That didn't seem to help his confusion.

"I don't know what is going on here, but I don't appreciate this charade one bit. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave now."

"Ken, please. It really is me, and I need your help. Just give me a chance to explain, OK?"

This was not going as well as I'd like. It took me more than half the time he could give me to convince him, and give a sanitized explanation of what had happened.

Finally we got around to why I was there. He still looked uncomfortable.

"I've got a problem." He snorted. "More than just this." I said, gesturing at my body. "There has been a hitch in my current contract project, and they are demanding a face to face meeting tomorrow. They know nothing of this. They were never supposed to know about this. I should have been James again by the next expected meeting, eight or ten weeks from now." I took a deep breath. "I have to show up for this meeting or risk defaulting on the contract. So I need to know what they can do if they take this badly. Am I protected?"

Now that he had something to divert his attention from my body, his expression of discomfort shifted to a look of concentration as he skimmed the copy of my contract he had waiting. Finally he said, "I think the way we have this contract written, and considering the current anti-discrimination laws, there isn't much they can do about it, at least legally. They can claim you weren't able to meet the specifications, but unless you are behind the stated schedule…" I shook my head, "that would be difficult to prove."

He leaned back, thinking. "Or they could invoke the escape clause. The one that lets them out of the contract for whatever reason they might have, in return for paying you a percentage of the remaining value."

I had forgotten that. That obviously wouldn't be good for me or my reputation, but it was better than some scenarios I could imagine.

"Except for forgetting the escape clause, that's pretty much what I thought. I just wanted to be sure."

Ken paused a moment. "You go by Jamie now, when you're like this?"

"Yes."

"Well, judging from your looks, this is a pretty serious thing for you. And whether you reverse the changes or not, you will continue to look like this for some time. I think you should file for a name change, to give yourself some legal standing looking as you do now."

That sent a chill down my spine. It sounded so final. But given my earlier thoughts about Amy and Paul, maybe it would be better anyway. "Is it hard to change back?"

"No, same basic procedure. It just might be harder to convince the judge that the change is necessary. Each change must be approved by a judge, with a valid reason supplied."

I had trouble getting the words out. "OK, can you handle that for me?"

He nodded and pulled a form up on his computer. "Current name, James Alexander Hastings, new name, Jamie… what do you want to use for a middle name?"

"I guess Alexander doesn't work, does it?" I joked. I ran over a bunch of possibilities in my head. I even said a few out loud, to see how they felt on my tongue. None of them seemed right, so finally in desperation I settled for shortening my current name. "Let's use Alexa."

"New name, Jamie Alexa Hastings. You are keeping Hastings, right?" I nodded vigorously. "Reason for change?" I looked blank. "Diagnosed gender dysphoria?"

"OK." It wasn't quite the truth, but not far off. Ken hit the print key, and soon handed me the form in duplicate for my signature.

"We should have this done sometime next week. I'll let you know. And you call me tomorrow if anything urgent comes out of that meeting." He glanced at his watch, and it was clear he was ready to end this session.

At least he was being professional about this, and doing his job. I just wish he had been a little more accepting. I sure hoped this wouldn't cause problems if or when I needed legal help again.

I went home and called Dr. Simmons' office to postpone my appointment. Not sure what was coming, I arranged for next week, Wednesday afternoon. Then I spent the rest of the day going over the project, what was already complete, and what I had started for the next phase. I wanted to be sure there was nothing they could work into an excuse to fire me. I was still at it when Amy came home. She made a quick dinner, then insisted that I come eat. I ate as much as I could before my anxiety got the best of me. I felt hardly able to function. Amy led me off to bed, gently removing my makeup, undressing me, slipping a nightie over my head, then guiding me to bed. She moved beside me and just held me, lending her strength silently. Trying to call me back from the abyss that seemed determined to swallow me. I reveled in the love I felt so undeserving of. I wanted to bask in it forever, but I knew that that was impossible.

Wednesday, Nov. 11

I woke early from a restless night. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Amy sensed how I was feeling, and she quietly smoothed my way getting ready.

I showered, shaving my legs and underarms. I wanted nothing to detract from the professional woman image I needed to project. When I got back to the room, Amy had laid out clothes for me. They looked just right, businesslike but feminine, attractive without being overtly sexy. She helped me select my jewelry, and made a few suggestions as I carefully applied makeup. She brushed my hair for me, long gentle strokes that soothed me, over and over until my hair was glossy, smooth, falling naturally into the shape Ellie had designed. She handed me a cup of coffee, and a piece of toast, knowing I couldn't stomach more than that, but she wouldn't let me leave till the toast was gone.

I was pretty much in a daze as I drove to their office. I was running scenarios through my mind, trying to anticipate everything. Before I knew it, I was in the parking lot, then had to force myself to get out of the car and head for the door. I clipped on the contractors badge they had issued me when I started months ago, glad now that there was no picture on it. I walked past the receptionist and headed off to the conference room. The door was open, and I could see a couple people inside. These were the people I knew from prior meetings, the only ones I was expecting here today, so I entered, closing the door behind me. They looked up at the noise, and I checked them out. As I expected, it was the project manager, and the lead engineer.

"Excuse me, can I help you? We have this room scheduled for a meeting now."

Summoning what little nerve I had left, I responded, "I know, and there is something we have to discuss before we get started. Sit down please."

The project manager was going to try to assume control and dispatch this crazy female that had invaded his territory. I couldn't let him.

"Please, sit down, and give me a few minutes to explain."

He didn't look happy, but he sat.

I leaned over the table, facing them, resting my hands on the tabletop. "This is a little hard to explain, but I am James Hastings, or as I am called now, Jamie Hastings. There have been a few complications during the past several months, and as a result, I find myself in the condition you see. I want to assure you this has had, and will have no negative impact on my work on this project."

The manager's face had been growing redder seemingly with each word I uttered. He finally blew. "What the hell is going on? Who the hell are you, and where the hell is James?"

His outburst just about blew me out of the room, and I did my best to keep my cool. "As I just explained, I am James, and as for what is going on, it is far too complicated to explain in the time we have. So, if we could just get on with this meeting, maybe we can work out the problems and get this project back on track."

"Now just a minute, darling. Do you really expect me to believe you are James Hastings? You must take me for some kind of fool!"

"I assure you, I am not trying to fool you. I am only here to do the job we agreed to in my contract. Please, can we proceed?"

The engineer, who had sat by with a bewildered look on his face, pulled some papers in front of him and opened his mouth to speak. He never got the chance.

"If you are James, then what are you, some kind of a fuckin sissy pervert? You make me sick."

"No, sir. To get us back on track so we can finish this meeting, I am a transgendered female, currently in transition. This is a medically diagnosed and treated condition. Please, let's do the job we need to do."

My calm rejoinder just seemed to stir the flames of his anger. He exploded again, "I want you out of here. I'm not working with some sicko freak that thinks he can be a woman. Get out of my sight, and I don’t ever want to see your fuckin face again!"

The engineer was looking decidedly nervous, and tried to calm him. "Um, sir, you can’t do that. He, um, er, she has a contract. If you fire him, er, her, we are in breach of contract, and liable for the penalties that were written into it."

"I don't give a god damn about the fuckin contract, or the fuckin penalties. I want this crazy bastard out of my sight, or I'm gonna make him regret the day he was born." I was getting really nervous, as he was advancing on me with clenched fists during this outburst.

The engineer quickly got between us, and said over his shoulder to me, "Maybe you should leave for the moment, and we can work this out another time." He turned back to his boss as I cautiously backed toward the door. "Um, sir, maybe we should use the buyout clause and cancel the contract legally."

"I'll be damned if this pervert gets one more dime out of this company. And I will personally make sure he never gets another contract from us, or from any company we work with!"

As I edged through the door and shut it, I heard the engineer begin, "Please, sir, calm down, she's gone now…"

I tried to gather a bit of dignity after that debacle as I made my way out of the building and breathed deeply the fresh air. It seemed so sparkling clean after the filth I had just encountered, in spite of the brown pall that tinged it. After I got into my car, all I could do was sit there shaking, resting my head against the steering wheel. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in, out. I had gained a whole lot of admiration for Erin, and all the other transsexuals who were living and thriving in the world. I never knew how tough it could be.

I needed a drink. I cruised down the street looking for a bar. That disastrous meeting hadn't taken long, and it was too early for bars to be open. So I stopped at a convenience store and got a big cup of coffee. Not that the caffeine would calm my nerves!

What now? Since I can't find a drink, what's next on my need list. A job! I was well and truly out of work now, losing out on the six or eight months of income that should have been mine.

Wait a minute. Maybe I wasn't out of work. Or wouldn't be shortly. A month ago, Paul's company had tried to recruit me for a contract. The work was a good fit for me, as they had explained it. And they had been desperate. If they hadn't found someone, they were to contact James, my 'partner' sometime this month. I was just desperate enough to go for it, so I headed off downtown to where I had visited Paul at his office.

I was really nervous as I rode the elevator to the fifth floor, where I had met with Paul, his boss, Mr. Johnson, and a team lead from the IT department named Steve. I wasn't up to facing Paul right now, so I asked directions from a secretary and went straight to Mr. Johnson's office. Knocking at the door, I stuck my head in and said "Mr. Johnson, do you have a minute?" Fortunately, there was no one in there with him.

"Can I help you?"

"It's me, Jamie. I've made a couple changes since I saw you last."

He rose from behind his desk and came to me. "Oh, I didn't recognize you at first. It's good to see you, Jamie. Have you reconsidered our offer?" Last time I was here, I had told him I had too much work to take his job. That had all changed this morning. He led me to a comfortable chair to one side of his office. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please. And yes, I'm here to talk about your offer."

He set my cup down. "Great! That's great. Let me call Steve in here and we can talk through some of the details."

His hand was lifting his phone as I said, "Wait. Please wait. I have something I need to tell you first. Just give me a couple minutes, OK?"

He set the phone down and came to sit in the other easy chair. "OK, shoot."

The thought crossed my mind that I hoped that wasn't what he would do when I told him. Shoot that is.

"Mr. Johnson. I have to clear up some issues before we can go anywhere with this. I have to get some truths out in the open, for my own peace of mind if nothing else. First, I need to tell you that I just lost my last contract. At this point, I don't know if they will use the escape clause and pay the specified balance, or if they will try to break the contract in court."

"Oh, that doesn't sound good. Can you tell me why?"

"That's the second thing I need to talk to you about." I took several sips of my coffee to calm my nerves. "I'm a transsexual. Are you familiar with that term?"

"Only vaguely. Isn't that like those guys on Jerry Springer that dress up like floozies and traipse around the stage? My god, that's not what you are, is it?"

"Wait. Slow down. No, I am not like those guys on Springer. A transsexual is a person with a medically diagnosed condition called gender dysphoria. Simply put, it is when the mind and the body are of different genders. In my case, my body was born male, and I have taken steps to correct that birth defect." I hated to lie, but the truth was too complicated and unbelievable.

"You're a guy. Are you sure?" I could see I wasn't getting through.

"No. I'm a girl. Unfortunately, I'm a girl that was born in a male body."

"Wow, I'd never have guessed." He thought a minute. "Does Paul know? I didn’t think he was gay, but I know he's stuck on you. Talks about you all the time! Are you gay? Oh, I'm sorry, that's none of my business!"

I sighed. "No, Mr. Johnson, Paul isn't gay, and neither am I. Paul thinks he loves the girl in me, and the girl in me loves Paul. And anyway, I wouldn't be gay, I'd be a lesbian."

"Oh, well, um… Does any of this interfere with you doing the job?"

Whew. I don't think I ever got it through to him, but it looks like maybe it won't affect the contract. "No sir, it won't interfere."

"Good. Let me call Steve in here."

Steve arrived a few minutes later. We talked over the technical aspects of the work needing to be done for the next hour. I pulled out a copy of my standard contract form which they would pass on to their lawyers. We closed the meeting with an agreement that they would pursue their end of getting the contract issued. Unfortunately, it was going to take awhile to get things sorted out. I left Ken's phone number so they could work out the legal details. If it came together, I could probably start in about a month.

I walked out with Mr. Johnson, and he guided me to Paul's office before I realized where we were going. He piped up "Hi, Paul. Look who I brought to see you!" then turned and walked away.

I stood uncertainly by his cubicle for a few moments while he stared with a bemused look on his face. Eventually he offered "Hi."

"Hi, Paul." Another awkward silence. "Can you walk me to the elevator?"

"OK." He got up and we moved down the row of cubicles to the foyer. I stopped in the corner of the hall where there was a little privacy.

"Are you mad at me?"

He smiled sadly. "No, I'm not mad. Just really confused."

"Why should you be any different?"

He chuckled, "No reason."

I looked up at him. "Paul, I need a favor."

"Anything, Jamie. What can I do?"

"It's a really big favor, but I'm not ready to ask yet. But I need you to promise. Promise that when I ask, you'll do this for me."

"Jamie, you're scaring me. What is it? What's going on?"

"Please Paul, I need you to promise!" I had trouble talking past the lump in my throat, and tears were welling in my eyes, but I fought them back.

"OK, Jamie. For you. I promise that if it is within my power, I will do it."

I stretched up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and all but ran for the elevator. I just about hyperventilated on the ride down, hanging on to the grab bar to steady my lightheadedness. As I passed a restaurant on the way to the car, I realized it was lunchtime. I decided I was too keyed up to eat.

My first appointment with the endocrinologist was in just under an hour, so it wasn't worth driving home. I still needed that drink, and the bars were open by now. I don't frequent bars often, never having felt the urge to drink much, so I didn't have any favorites. As I headed toward Dr. Myers office, I found one that looked pretty nice. It was fairly crowded, but I found a stool at the bar just as someone vacated. The place had a lingerie show, probably trying to attract the professional lunch crowd. It seemed to be doing the job, as every table was full.

The bartender delivered my bloody Mary, and I swiveled around to see what the fuss was all about. I saw right off that they had some reasonably attractive ladies taking turns on a little stage, strutting out in some sexy filmy things that managed to stay on the right side of legal. They would walk across the stage, take a turn, and return, only to be replaced by the next model.

The man next to me at the bar leaned over and said, "You interested? Want to give that a whirl?" and pointed at the stage.

I blushed, "No, thanks, not my thing."

He studied my face, then looked me up and down. "You're really very pretty, you know."

I blushed even redder and mumbled, "Thanks."

"My name's Tim Wheeler." He handed me a business card. "I run this show, but mostly I do more serious stuff. This is just a chance for some of the girls that don't have the body or the talent that it takes to do real modeling. You definitely have the face and figure that could do well in this business." He reached out and grabbed my chin to turn my head from side to side, looking at it from various angles. His hand dropped away. "Yes, quite well. If you're ever interested in giving it a shot, call me." He handed me a business card, then got up and headed backstage before I had a chance to figure out how to put him off.

I finished the drink, even eating the celery stalk. I figured it was better than no lunch. I wormed my way through the crowd and back out into the bright autumn sunshine. It only took me a few minutes to get to the doctor's office, so I was pretty early for my appointment. I sat in the waiting room and read the months old magazines until I heard my name, and followed the nurse to a tastefully decorated office. Sitting in a comfortable chair in front of the desk, I waited several minutes before a short, round, balding man bustled in.

"Let's see, Ms. Hastings, right? Any relationship to Amy Hastings? Good doctor, that!"

"Yes." I didn't know how much he knew, but didn't feel like elaborating.

He settled into his chair behind the desk as he scanned my chart. "Hormone problems. Possible genital function impairment due to high levels. Hmmm. Male taking estrogens and androgen inhibitors. Right." He set the folder down and looked up at me. "Ok, so what is it you think I can do for you?"

"Um, I'm not sure doctor. I was referred here to see if there is a viable way to restore my male organs." Boy, it was hard talking about this stuff! "Um, another thing I would like to explore, as a contingency, is resuming female hormones, in order to finish what the earlier treatments started."

That set him off and running a mile a minute. "Not decided yet, hmm? Any leanings? If you go the male route, we have quite a few tests to run, and probably a long complicated recovery process, if it is even possible. Which is what the tests will tell us. Go female, things get much easier. Just get a baseline hormone reading, which is here in the results from last Friday, and start you on the appropriate dosage. Much easier."

"So what does the blood test say? Any sign that I might be able to recover?"

"It says you're an oversexed teenage girl. Minimal testosterone, plenty of estrogen." He flipped back in the chart. "Hmm. Slightly higher than last time on the male, down more on the female. Maybe progress, maybe normal variation. Have to wait and see, assuming that's the way you want to go."

I sagged back in the chair and sighed. "I just want it to be over. What's the plan if I go the other way, female?"

"Estrogen and spironolactone now, orchidectomy as soon as possible. Then there's no turning back. You make the decision, we'll start making progress."

"Any recommendations for the male path. Anything that can help the recovery?"

"Not much. We could try testosterone, but we shouldn't resort to that till later. If we have to do that, there's a good chance you'd have to keep receiving hormone treatments for the rest of your life."

"Oh. Seems kinda bleak, doesn't it? Look, I need to think about this. I can’t make that decision right now. I need to keep my options open for the moment."

"Right. Make an appointment for two weeks on your way out, and get in here four or five working days ahead to leave another sample." With that, he was out the door, on to his next patient.

When I got home, I went through my office and boxed up everything related to my now defunct contract. I archived all the project files on my computer to a DVD. Then I collapsed on the couch.

Late in the afternoon, the phone roused me from a fitful nap. It was Ken, and he told me the lawyers had contacted him, and my contract had officially been bought out via the escape clause. Well, it wasn't as much as I'd have earned doing the work, but it got me off the project six months or more early. I shuddered to think what this would do to my reputation, and therefore my earning potential. It's funny how life can smack you down just when things seem to be going great. If only I could rewind three months, knowing what I do now!

I still wasn't in the mood to eat, so it was tough to think about Amy's dinner. I ended up putting a salad together with some sautéed chicken strips to add to it when Amy got here.

The conversation over dinner wasn't very upbeat, as I brought Amy up to date on my cancelled contract, and on what I found out at the doctor. I did cheer her up a bit with the news about Paul's company.

I cleaned up from dinner, then hit the internet again. I was at the stage that I was just devouring any information on transgender issues. I read more about the SOC, about psychiatric criteria, about the real life test. I got stuck on the surgery stuff, what doctors were good, what different procedures there were. Most of it I had seen before, but there was a doctor in a neighboring state that had a procedure that was useful for RLT. It was a reversible procedure that shifted stuff around in the groin area and fastened things in place to give the general appearance of a vulva. No long-term information was available, and there was believed to be a limit on how long it could be maintained and still recover male function, but it was a pretty interesting idea.

Amy came in, ready for bed, and looked over my shoulder for a while. What I was looking at upset her, I could tell, but she didn't say anything. After awhile, she dragged me off to bed, then cuddled quietly till she drifted off to sleep. I could remember no time in our marriage when we had talked less than we had the last couple of weeks. My mind kept churning, and it was quite awhile before I slept. My mind just kept looking for a way out. How could I stop the torment I was causing Amy? I didn't like any of the answers I came up with.

Thursday, Nov. 12

The next couple days I kind of fell into a rut. A little breakfast with Amy, a walk, both days without seeing Paul, housework, computer fiddling, internet research, and all the time my mind kept on working. I knew my self-esteem was plunging. I just couldn't think how to stop it. I kept coming back to the things I had done. And every time around the track, my scorn for my behavior grew. In my mind I evolved from a victim with a guilty conscience to a tease that incited, to a tramp that loved the sex and degradation, to a whore. I was drinking more than I ever had, and pushing Amy further and further away. Except for the walks, I didn't get out of the house at all.

Saturday, Nov. 14

When Amy woke me, my head was throbbing, and I barely made it to the toilet before I lost what little there was in my stomach. I didn't think I drank that much last night, but then again I didn't remember much. Amy helped me into the shower, then came in with me and gently washed me, and shampooed my hair. It felt so good to be pampered, but it hurt too, because I knew I didn't deserve it. I had to stop being so selfish; stop taking from Amy, free her so she could have all she deserved. As long as I kept clinging to her, I was keeping her from happiness.

Amy treated me almost as a little child, leading me from the shower, drying me off, dusting my body with powder. She had noticed how emaciated my body was, and pushed me onto the scale.

"113! My God, Jamie, are you trying to kill yourself or ruin your health? What is that, over thirty pounds you've lost? We have to get you to a doctor!"

"I'm seeing three doctors, what more do you want!"

"I want you alive, and healthy, and with me forever!" She broke down in tears. "Oh, James, I feel like I've lost you." She grabbed my arms and punctuated each word with a shake of my whole body, "Can't. You. Understand? I. Love. You!" She fell against me bawling her eyes out. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to take her pain away, but I knew I was causing it, and as long as I was there I would keep causing it. I felt like total scum by now. I managed to get her to the bed, but could hardly even touch her let alone try to reassure her. I finally collapsed on the floor beside her bed and sobbed out my grief.

Amy was very quiet after that. Sometime during the day, I heard her on the phone, crying as she poured her heart out to someone. At one point I heard her say "I don’t think he loves me anymore." God, could she be any more wrong? But she would be better in the long run if she believed that.

I wandered through the rest of the weekend in a haze of despair. I'm not sure where the time went, but eventually Monday morning rolled around. That was relief and pain. Relief because Amy was gone, to work. Pain because Amy was not here.

Tuesday, Nov. 17

I got a wakeup call from the walking nightmare I had been living these past several days. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad, maybe both. I got a call just after lunch from Ken, my lawyer. The name change had come through. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. I was now legally Jamie Alexa. I cleaned myself up and put on some reasonable clothes for the first time in days, then headed down to his office to pick up the papers. As I drove, I thought maybe I should just give in to the bad girl inside me. Maybe I should give up trying to be James.

Armed with the paperwork, I drove to the DMV and stood in line to get a new license. The clerk glanced at the paperwork briefly, and didn't pay any attention to the old license I surrendered. A quick picture, and another wait. Eventually they called me up to the counter and I picked up the new license. Geez, did I really look that bad? Name? Yup, Jamie Alexa Hastings. I checked the weight too, 115. And the hair color, Black. Then I stopped dead, gender, Female! My head started to spin, and I barely made it to one of the uncomfortable waiting benches before I collapsed. I wondered if I should try to correct the mistake, but a glance at the line convinced me I didn't want the hassle right now.

Next stop was the bank for a new ATM card, to change the name and picture. They studied the name change paperwork really carefully. I understood their concern because I surely did not resemble James Alexander in the slightest. On a sudden impulse I opened another account. Thanks to the payoff on my old contract, plus the recent payment for the completed work, there was over a hundred grand in savings. I started to put $25,000 into the new account, then stopped and thought about some of the expenses I might have if I had surgery. I ended up putting 50 thousand in it. I had convinced myself I had to get away from Amy for her sake, so I wanted to be prepared. But I couldn't leave Amy broke, either.

I walked out of the bank with two new bank cards with my new name on them, and a safe separate account just in case.

I may have been killing off the part of my life that I loved, but right now I felt more alive than I had in a week or more.

Wednesday, Nov. 18

I got myself out to walk again for the first time this week. Some of the energy I found yesterday was still with me, and the walk did me good. I was disappointed not to see Paul today, it had been a long time, and I missed him.

I got home and showered and wandered to the kitchen in just a light robe and panties. That was when the bottom fell out of my world. I found a message on the answering machine from SammaTech, Paul's company. They would not be requiring my services.

At that point, something snapped within me. What was left of my old male self went into hiding, maybe never to return. What remained was the tramp, the slut, the sex object I had come to understand I was since my rape.

I took a couple of suitcases to the bedroom and began methodically packing. My mind was in shock, but what had to be done was perfectly clear. I chose carefully, only the clothes that matched my new self-image. The daring, the sexy, the sluttish, towering heels, the most erotic lingerie, the tightest tops and jeans. I dressed in a miniskirt and skimpy tube top, and packed the rest. Then came the makeup, hair care items, shower stuff, the green costume contacts Amy had gotten me for Halloween. I scanned the room for anything I had forgotten. I avoided keepsakes. I wanted as little connection as possible to the life that was ending. Then my eye fell on a picture of Amy and the old me, taken on a carefree day at the park. I almost cried at the love shining out of those two faces, and mourned the loss. That one I took.

I loaded the suitcases and my laptop computer in the car and came back into the house. I searched my purse and left the new bank card for our joint account and most of the credit cards. I would return the others when I had arranged replacements. I almost left the house key, but just couldn't make myself do it.

Then I set about the hardest task I had ever undertaken, I wrote a note to Amy. Before I got my explanations and goodbyes down, the paper was stained with many tears. The writing was shaky from the sobs as I wrote. I tried to convey my love for her, and my wish that she find happiness. And then I sat there and bawled.

When I pulled myself back together, there was only one thing left. Fortunately, Paul answered his work number on the second ring.

"It's time, Paul."

"Jamie! I am so sorry about the contract. I tried. I really thought this thing would work out. I …"

"Paul! That doesn't matter now. Remember your promise. It's time for that favor." I was just maintaining control as I spoke, and my voice was sounding almost mechanical. "I need you to do something for me. Amy is going to need you in about an hour and a half."

"Wha…" but I cut him off.

"Be here for her, Paul. Take care of her. She'll need your help. Love her like you thought you loved me." I tried to strangle off a sob. "Make her happy, Paul! Remember your promise! Love her for me. Give her the children we wanted together." I barely got the receiver down before I lost control and started blubbering to nothing, no one. "Please Paul. Please."

Anyone watching would have thought I was drunk as I wove my way to the car, out the door of my home for maybe the last time. But I wasn't drunk. Not yet anyway.

I drove all the way across town and found an inexpensive motel that I could rent by the week. I checked in and moved my luggage into the room, then sat on the bed in a stupor for a while. Finally I shook myself, and went to look at myself in the mirror. I smoothed the skirt and adjusted the top, then dug my makeup bag out and arranged the cosmetics on the counter.

I cleaned off the old makeup. It was smudged and had run down my cheeks. Besides, it was from my old life. I carefully started applying a new coat of cosmetics. I used more vivid colors, went for a more dramatic look than I'd used before. When I stood back and looked at the finished product, I nodded in approval. Not bad, I thought. Time to go get drunk!

I was careful about selecting a bar. I didn't want anything too upscale, but I wanted it to be at least reasonably safe. I found one that I thought would work to drown my guilt and sorrow. Being a Wednesday, it was pretty quiet, but not deserted. I slid into a booth in back that was fairly private, and ordered a gin and tonic. When it was delivered, I ordered a second. I slowed down after the first couple of gulps burned their way down my throat. I didn't want to pass out too soon. I sipped my drink and tried to take stock of my life. Well, that was easy. I had nothing. Nothing except this sexy body that wasn't really mine. No work, no home, no friends, nothing but the raunchy impulses that had led to my downfall.

My second drink came, and I handed the empty to the waitress and ordered a third. She looked at me kind of funny before she left.

A minute later, a pretty good-looking guy slid into the booth across from me. "You look like you could use a friend. Or at least a drinking buddy. Can I apply for the job?" He had a crooked little grin on his face. He didn't feel threatening.

"I wouldn't be very good company, I'm afraid. And after another couple of these, I'll be even worse."

He chuckled. "I think I can handle it. Besides, if you put away another couple of those, you'll need someone to drive you home." My heart lurched at that word. Home. What I didn't have any more.

He must have picked up on it somehow. "Want to talk about it? I'm a pretty good listener. By the way, my name's Jim."

"Name's Jamie," but I sidestepped his question. "What can I get you to drink? If you're going to be my knight in shining armor, the least I can do is buy you a drink."

The waitress delivered my third, and Jim asked for a beer. Jim tried to draw me out, then when he could get little more than grunts in answer, he switched to talking about himself, throwing in a question for me now and again.

When I was finishing my fourth gin and tonic, I was feeling better, and loosening up a little. "Listen, Jim, you got any plans for the rest of the evening?" Jim had switched to tonic water after that first beer.

"Nope, just chauffeuring milady wheresoever she needs to be," he replied gallantly.

"Well, how about we get out of this quiet place and find something a little livelier?"

He rubbed his chin. "Well, there's a place down the street, but it might not be what you're looking for. They have strippers there."

"Sounds interesting. Besides, I used to enjoy strip joints now and then." I could see the surprise in his eyes. Of course, he didn't know I used to be a man.

I dropped enough money on the table for the drinks and a tip, and Jim steadied me as I staggered out the door. A few minutes in the fresh air, and I was feeling more able to stay upright. "Your car or mine?" he asked.

"Yours, please, if that's ok with you."

"Fine with me."

It was a quick drive to the next place, and I was happy to see it looked pretty respectable. I looked up at the sign as we walked to the door. "Lariat Club" was all it said. Inside, it was more crowded than I expected, then I saw why. They had a big banner for a wet T-shirt contest, so apparently a lot of guys brought their girlfriends, and even more came to watch.

We found a table, and got another drink for me, and a tonic water for Jim.

"So, you gonna try it?" Jim joked, nodding toward the banner.

"Naw." But then I stopped and thought, why not. This was the newly discovered me, the tramp, the sexy bitch. Why not go for it. "Hell, yeah, I think I will." Jim looked surprised.

A few minutes later there was an announcement for the contestants to meet backstage. I left my purse with Jim and followed the line of mostly younger girls to the back. We all changed into tight shorts, even tighter T-shirts. Mine was stretched so much over my double D boobs I didn't really need it wet to show everything. I was starting to get nervous now. They lined us up in an order that only made sense to them, then led us onstage to a thunderous round of applause.

They announced that the winner tonight, based on audience approval would win $50, and the top three would be offered $100 each to come back tomorrow and perform a strip routine.

I started out petrified, but watching the other girls I started getting into the spirit, and ended up having a great time thrusting my chest out for the reaction of the crowd. It was quite intoxicating, not to mention wet, and cold.

I didn't win the prize money, but I did place third, so as I filed backstage to dry off, two other girls and myself were ushered aside to have the offer explained in more detail. One girl backed out, but the other seemed really eager to do it. Still riding the high from the contest, and being a bit soused, I readily agreed to give it a go.

When I got back to the front, I was relieved to see Jim still waiting for me at the table.

His first words were "It must have been rigged. You were the obvious winner!"

I giggled. "You're just prejudiced." I looked at him sidelong, "By the way, got any plans tomorrow night?"

"Maybe, unless I get a better offer. Whatcha got in mind?"

"Well… I did get third place, so I get to come back tomorrow and dance in the show. Wanna watch?"

"Hmmm. Balance checkbook. See Jamie naked. Tough choice. But, since you might need a ride afterward, I guess I'll sacrifice the checkbook thing and suffer through."

I swatted his arm. I was actually having fun. And my grinning face showed it. It had been awhile. That line of thought brought a flash of pain, but I quickly concentrated on the here and now, and pushed my past troubles away.

We ordered another round of drinks (OK, a drink and a water), and sat back to watch the strippers perform. I studied them, how they moved, what they wore, wondering if I could really get out there and do that. We talked in the lulls between acts, and whistled and clapped for the strippers, having a high old time. I lost count of the drinks, but by the time we left I was feeling no pain.

In the car, Jim asked me where he could take me, but I mumbled, "Don't remember," and promptly fell asleep. I vaguely remember being carried to an upstairs apartment, then gently placed on a bed and having a blanket spread over me. My next foggy memory is getting up to pee, then stripping out of everything but my panties, crawling into a different bed, and snuggling against a sleeping Jim.

*****

Amy entered the quiet house, wondering why James' car wasn't there. She changed into comfortable clothes before heading to the kitchen to scrounge a bite. There was a soggy notepad on the counter, and she looked at it curiously, then with a growing dread as she read the tear-soaked words. Somehow it just wouldn't penetrate. James was gone! How could that be possible? James and Amy were life mates, two halves of the same soul; one could not live without the other. How could he be gone? It just didn't make any sense!

She sat numbly at the counter for a minute, an hour, a century. Time had no meaning. Then the doorbell rang. Her first thought was "He's back. It wasn't really true." She flew to the door and threw it open, only to realize it wasn't James, it was Paul. She froze for a moment, then started blubbering, "He's gone. Oh God, Paul, he's gone. Where is he, Paul? You've got to help me!" and on and on.

Paul stepped forward and hugged the sobbing woman to him. This looked like Jamie, felt like Jamie, sounded like Jamie, but he knew it wasn't. Still, he held her, and whispered comforting words, falling into the same pattern as when he'd comforted Jamie after she'd been date raped. When Amy quieted a little, he picked up the double of the woman he loved, and carried her to the same bed, tucked her in, and climbed on top of the covers, cuddling her chastely, just as he had done with Jamie.

Tears flowed down Amy's cheeks to soak into Paul's shirt and the pillow. Gradually the flow slowed, then stopped, and Amy's breathing grew regular as she slipped into oblivion. Paul continued to hold her until he, too, slept.

Thursday, Nov. 19

Paul woke first next morning, with Amy snuggled against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face nestled between his shoulder and his cheek. As he emerged from sleep, his first thought was that it was Jamie he was holding, but then his memory of last night started to return. He pulled back carefully, somehow disentangling himself without waking her. Leaning on his elbow, he gazed at the woman who looked so much like Jamie. His heart ached for his loss, and for hers. The Jamie he knew had been gone since Halloween. Something had changed that weekend, but he couldn't get it out of her. She would hardly talk to him anymore. He wondered if she had been that way with Amy.

He mused that Amy's loss was potentially so much greater than his. She had fully expected to spend the rest of her life with her James. And now that person was gone, and may never be back. That was a blow she might not recover from. He reached out and lightly brushed hair from Amy's face, and wished it was Jamie.

Slipping from the bed, he used the hall bathroom, then scrounged in the kitchen to first make coffee, then pancakes for Amy's breakfast. He heard the shower running, then shut off, and had fresh hot pancakes ready on the table for her when a dull-eyed Amy emerged wearing a terrycloth robe and slippers.

While his pancakes were frying, he called Amy's office, getting her nurse.

"Hello. This is a friend of Amy's. She has a personal emergency she needs to deal with today, and won't make it in to the office. Can you please take care of canceling appointments for today and tomorrow, or finding other doctors to take them?" He listened a moment.

"No, I can't explain the emergency right now. I'll let Amy tell you what she can next week." Another pause to listen.

"Thank you very much. Bye."

Amy tried to smile her gratitude, but it looked more like a grimace. She was sipping her coffee, but had barely touched the pancakes.

Paul spoke gruffly "Eat! Doctor's orders!" His wisp of a smile faltered as he added, "I've watched Jamie waste away these past two weeks. You can't do it too."

Amy forced down a few bites while Paul set his plate and coffee on the table and joined her.

Amy reached across to rest her hand on his and said, "Thanks."

Paul looked at her, trying to remember this wasn't the woman he loved. "Hey, we're both hurting right now. We've gotta help each other through this."

Amy was coming to recognize what James saw in Paul. "How did you know?" she whispered.

Paul paused. "Jamie came to the office last week, to try for the contract work we needed done. At the time, we thought she would get it. As she was leaving, she asked me for a favor. She wouldn't tell me what it was, but made me promise her I would do it when she asked." Paul took a deep breath. "I love her, you know?" Amy nodded. "So, I promised." Amy squeezed his hand. "Then yesterday, my boss told her we weren't giving her the contract. A few hours later, she called me to remind me of my promise, and to claim her favor."

"What was it? The favor?"

Paul looked away from Amy nervously. "She told me when you would be home, and that you would need my help. She told me to be there for you." He took a deep breath. "She told me to love you like I loved her. To take care of you. To make you happy. To give you the children you and she planned to have together." Paul was barely able to get this last out, and tears were streaming down Amy's face. "You don't think she'd ki…, um, uh, hurt herself, do you?"

Amy squeezed his hand tighter and got a faraway look in her eyes, "No, James is a very strong person, with very strong beliefs. He would never consider suicide." She took several deep breaths in order to continue, "But, from what I've seen this past couple of weeks, he may be on a downward spiral that could be just as deadly, if it can't be stopped." She looked back at Paul. "James was so sure he had that contract with your company. Do you know what happened?"

"Jamie, in her honorable way, had to tell the truth. When she talked to my boss, she laid it on the line, about her change. From what I hear, Mr. Johnson was uncomfortable, but seemed to handle it, then continued the talks into the technical details, finally all but promising the contract to Jamie at the end of the meeting. Later, he had second thoughts, and torpedoed the deal. He didn't even have the decency to call her himself."

"That was the straw that broke the camel's back, then. James would have felt that his career was ruined, having just been fired from his current contract for the same reason. And after what he has been through, it would have been too much."

"I knew something happened over Halloween weekend. Jamie changed, but I couldn't get her to talk about it. She got more distant, more moody, less predictable, always distracted. Can you tell me what happened, Amy? She must have been hurt so bad, but I didn't know how to help."

So Amy related the events of the Halloween party, the way James was callously violated, and her arrival to stop it.

"Just like with you, James wouldn't talk to me. The more time that past, the more he withdrew. I know how James thinks, we were so close before this, I can almost think his thoughts. He would have thought this was his own fault. He would have believed I would be disgusted with him for what he had done. He would have convinced himself he was worthless, maybe even considering himself a tramp. Instead of scaring him back toward being a man, the rape may have crushed the last of his male spirit."

Paul was disgusted with himself for feeling a flash of joy at Amy's last statement. He changed tack. "Excuse me, I have to make another phone call, and this one is going to be kind of tough."

Paul used the phone in the kitchen, not concerned that Amy could overhear. He dialed his boss' direct line. "Mr. Johnson? This is Paul." He listened a moment. "Fine, thanks, but I have a personal emergency I need to handle." Amy couldn't make out what came from the other end of the line. "It's about Jamie, and to be blunt, you helped precipitate the problem. In fact, I have a good amount of vacation saved up, I think I will take an indefinite leave while I consider if I can work for someone who treats other people, good people, like that." Mr. Johnson spoke at length. "Yes, I understand. Good bye."

Paul looked at Amy. "Well, that went well. Not! But it looks like I have some time on my hands if there is anything I can do to help. Really, anything at all." Paul gazed longingly at Amy for a long time.

Amy finally said "What?"

"It's just so amazing. I look at you, and I see her. I listen to you, and I hear her. Holding you last night, I felt only her. The new Jamie, the Jamie of the last two weeks, that wasn't the Jamie I fell in love with."

"Yes, she really was quite incredible. Sandy's challenge was for her to look, act, and sound exactly like me. James was so determined to win the challenge for me that he threw himself into it heart and soul. It probably helped that we were so in love, and that he was so attentive to me in the past. He was able to create a fantastic similarity in a very short time. Then the rape brought it all crashing down. He felt he had to have a self that was separate from me. He was trying to protect me, and find himself. But the pain was too much to bear, and he finally snapped." She put a hint of steel in her voice, "We have to find him. We have to help him. He needs our love like he's never needed anything before!"

*****

I woke to delicious sensations in my chest. Coming awake slowly, I felt something lightly stroking my right breast. I opened my eyes to see Jim, bare chested, leaning on his elbow, gazing at me as he brushed his finger repeatedly across my sensitive nipple.

"Mmmm" I murmured with a smile. "Morning."

"Morning."

"I could get used to that, especially if it can stop a hangover like it seems to have done. I was dreading waking up this morning. But not any more." I slipped my hand behind his neck and gently pulled his head down to my nipple. He took the hint and sucked it into his mouth, swiping with his tongue, sliding his teeth across the engorged flesh, sucking like a hungry baby. After a time of pure bliss, he pulled me toward him so he could reach the other side, and repeated his ministrations.

Finally I sighed, and pulled gently away. Jim let me go without a struggle. "Thank you for that, and for being a gentleman. I needed that, but I'm not ready to go any further right now. OK?"

Jim gave me a rueful smile. "Happy to oblige. When you're ready for more, I'll be ready too. Till then, we'll take it easy."

"Thanks."

I slipped out of bed, and stood looking down at him, as his gaze roamed over me. It wasn't bothering me in the slightest that I was almost naked in front of a man I had just met yesterday. I moved into the bathroom to pee and clean up. I came back out in one of his shirts, though it was more like a minidress on me.

Jim found something for us to eat, and made coffee. I actually felt like eating something, be it only cereal, milk and juice. I picked up my scattered clothes and walked back to Jim's bedroom. He followed behind, to find me topless, with his shirt on the bed. He walked up behind me and reached around to caress my tits. I moaned and leaned back into him. It had been so long since I'd had any good feelings. I just wanted to revel in them. Finally I moved away and pulled my dirty clothes on.

I looked at him, "Don't you have work today?"

"Oh, damn. I forgot all about it." He hustled into some clothes then towed me out the door within just a couple of minutes. "Come on, I'll drop you at your car."

As I got out next to my car, I asked "Still on for tonight?"

"You bet! Where should I pick you up? And what time?" So I told him where I was staying, and a time that would get me there early.

Back at the motel I unpacked my bags and put things away. I planned to stay here at least awhile, so I might as well settle in. Then I got into my workout clothes, some of the skimpiest I had owned, and found my way to the exercise room. I spent an hour on the treadmill, trying to simulate my normal morning walk. I basked in the admiring looks I received from the men that were using the facility. They were stroking the ego of the sexy girl that I had become when my male identity shut down. I spent most of the afternoon lounging around the pool in my bikini, alternately swimming lazily or sipping a long island iced tea in a deck chair.

I dressed casually, red thong panties, low rider jeans that hugged my every curve, a red halter-top not much bigger than my bikini, and red five-inch heels. I put a leather jacket over my shoulders to ward off the chill that would be present at the end of the night, and went into the motel's restaurant for a light dinner.

Jim picked me up at 6:30 and took me to the Lariat Club. I was early, but I was nervous. I guess I wasn't alone. The other girl that had agreed to the chance to strip was already there. I think her name was Barb. The manager took us backstage, and introduced us around, turning us over to one of the regular dancers to get ready.

"Hi, I'm Misti. I'm gonna help you tonight, show you what you'll need to do. This rack has the costumes you can choose from. Choose some shoes that fit from over there." I saw nothing in the rows of shoes that had heels as low as my highest. I wondered if I could even walk in them, let alone dance and strip. "You won the contest last night, so you get $100 tonight, plus any tips. A few of us regulars will go out first and warm the crowd up, and then you get your shot. If the crowd likes you, then you get a choice. Either you can quit there, or you can do a second routine as a kind of job interview. If Bill likes what he sees, you might get a job offer. Questions so far?"

I had picked a red, white, and blue outfit off the rack, and was looking at it in wonder. Red, full, stretchy panties that would look more like they were painted on, a blue top, bra really, with white stars, and a red and white striped short jacket.

"No? OK. Rules are, the customers can't touch you, except what they can't help when they stuff a tip in your string. You can start with wearin' as much as you want, but you end with only the G string." She reached into the outfit I held and pulled out something I swore couldn't be an item of clothing.

"I'll pick the music for you, and you get the chance to practice movin with it back in the back room a couple times before you're on. When you finish the routine, you pick up your outfit pieces and skedaddle backstage, so the next gal can go on. You can use those two makeup tables over there to get ready, then see me and we'll go practice."

As Barb headed for the table, I pulled Misti aside. I held up the G-string, "Um, is there maybe something a little more, uh, generous that I could use? I don't have a problem showing most of my body, but I have a little problem down there I'd rather not show off."

Misti grabbed a sequined thing that wasn't much bigger, but at least the strip between the legs was a couple inches wider. "Here, this is one of our old ones. They were too uncomfortable, scratchy, so everyone complained to Bill, and he got us those."

I headed off beside Barb, and poked through the makeup to see what there was. This was heavy-duty war paint. Guess it had to be to stand up to the sweat, and to not wash out in the bright lights. I scrubbed off my makeup, and carefully used what was there. Misti came over, looked at me, and doubled the blusher and eye shadow, then made the eyeliner a lot bolder.

I stepped off to the side, and checked that no one was watching. Careful to keep my nether anatomy, with its almost believable prosthesis, screened as much as possible, I stripped naked and swiftly donned the patriotic getup. Misti was right! Even with my gaff protecting a lot of me, that G-string was uncomfortable!

Misti led us to a back room, then asked who wanted to go first. Barb was eager, so Misti eyed her costume and selected a CD, slipping it into a machine. "OK, listen to the music, and watch me work through it the first time, then you try." The impromptu routine was fluid, athletic, and very erotic. No way that I could move like that. I almost backed out right then. But the song ended, and Misti tugged Barb to the middle of the room before starting the music again. At first, Barb's moves were jerky, but she got better. Her other problem was she had all her clothes off halfway through the recording. Misti had her dress, then started the music again. This time she did better, getting more sensuous movements, but she still had half her clothes on when the song ended. Third time was a better yet, though she could have used a choreographer. She moved nice, but it didn't sync with the music.

I had gotten into watching Barb, swaying to the music, thinking how I would move. Misti glanced at my Uncle Sam costume and stuck in a sexed up version of a patriotic song, working through another impromptu routine while I soaked up the rhythm.

Suddenly it was my turn. Misti shoved me forward, and started the music. I froze. I couldn't think of what to do. Then I moved a little, then a little more. Pretty soon I was doing OK, when I suddenly remembered I had to strip. Fumbling through taking off the clothes that first time really threw off any grace in my movement, and I was just stripping down the panty to reveal my G-string when the music ended. While I pulled the costume back on, I thought my way through the music, and I started to see a pattern I could follow, where a move fit with the music, where I should strip which piece of the outfit. I signaled Misti to wait a moment as I finished the mental run through. I waved and the music started again. I was still a little flustered, but I got into my mental dance, and felt how it was fitting the song. My steps flowed easier, and the movement sliding into the motion needed to remove the jacket, then the panty, and finally the bra. The third time, I stood stock still for the first few bars, scanning with my eyes as if challenging an unseen audience, a sexy pout on my lips. After the pause, when it felt right, I started to move. I felt fantastic by the end of the song. I didn't know if the crowd would like watching it, but I knew I would like doing it.

When we got back to the backstage area, it was after eight and several dancers had already performed. The current set ended, and a nearly nude girl came scampering back through the curtain. Misti handed a CD to someone, then shoved Barb through to the stage. We heard the MC announce one of the wet T winners was next up, and please give a big welcome to Barb.

Misti and I peeked through the curtain as Barb danced. She started off frightened and jerky, but as the crowd cheered her on, she loosened up, and by the end, she was doing great. She moved to the edge of the stage so the cheering guys could stuff money in her G-string, then grabbed her scattered clothes and scooted backstage.

Suddenly I was in the bright lights, feeling like a deer frozen in the headlights. The PA boomed to welcome Jamie, the other wet T-shirt winner. Then the music started, and I scanned the crowd, getting the beat. My feet moved, and my body followed. I felt a sense of euphoria as my clothes slipped away. Then suddenly it was over, and I froze for a moment in a dramatic pose. Putting a come hither expression on my face, I moved along the edge of the stage, letting the guys leave their tips, and their touches.

Backstage, Misti met me with a short satin robe and a big smile. Bill, the manager, took Barb and me aside and asked if we wanted to try another round. Barb said no, she just did it because her boyfriend wanted her to. I nodded my head eagerly, so he sent me off to find what I would wear next. I scanned the rack and pulled out a tiger stripe thing that looked pretty hot, and then took it to the back room. Dropping the robe, I got into my sexy you Tarzan, me Jane costume. I tried the opening bars of a few songs in the CD case before I found one I liked, and then just listened to it a couple times, trying to imagine my moves. I started it the third time, and twirled out onto the dance floor and let my body go. By the third practice, I knew how I wanted to do it, and took the CD and the robe to the curtain so I could watch some of the other dancers while I waited.

I saw Bill out front wave at someone on stage, or behind the curtain. Misti found me and told me I was up next. I gave her the CD and robe, and waited nervously, running the steps over in my mind. The latest girl dashed backstage and Misti signaled me. I stepped just through the curtain and waited for the music to start. I began with the twirl out to the center of the stage, and flowed into the routine I was visualizing. The beat of the music was like jungle drums, and it soaked into me right to the bone. My moves were savage, erotic, tormenting, and the costume pieces seemed to drop away almost without my help. Then the song was done, and the watchers cheered and whistled, and I made my round for collection. Bill met me back stage and offered me the job on the spot, as he handed me the $100 prize for dancing.

I thought about it. I was out of work anyway, and I didn't want to delve into the new bank account if I could help it. "Sure."

He responded, "Ok, you work Saturday, then the five weeknights next week, then we talk it over and decide if we both want to continue."

I had a thought. "Sounds fine to me. But there is some unfinished business I need to take care of soon. After this week, not sure exactly when yet, I'm gonna need a week off to wrap up some loose ends. Can you work with that?"

"Let's see how the week goes. If you work out, I think we can fit it in."

I gave him a hug, and a peck on the cheek, and then went off to put my own clothes back on. It was only then that I realized I'd had that whole conversation essentially naked.

Misti came by, "Hey, congrats. But you gotta take it easy on Bill, the rest of us have to work around here, so don't spoil him!"

I cleaned off the stage paint, and did my face with what I had in my purse, then made my way out front to find Jim. He cheered as I walked up to his table, and had a gin and tonic waiting for me. I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. I hadn't had time to do much with my tips, just stuff them into the purse after each dance. I pulled them out, straightened them up, and counted it. I had nothing to compare to, but $84 tips plus the $100 didn't seem bad for dancing two songs.

We watched the professionals dance for a while, and I tried to absorb as much as I could. After my second drink, I asked Jim to take me home. He tried to talk me into coming to his place, but I begged off tonight, then invited him out for dinner the next night, if he was free. He agreed and drove me home. He walked me up to my room, and there at my door, he kissed me for the first time. The kiss lasted what seemed forever, and I gave as good as I got. When it was over, I stroked his cheek, thanked him for the night, and backed in my door.

I thought about the kiss. Not bad! Maybe not up to Amy's standards, or even Paul's, but for a while it would probably do just fine. Did I really want this? I decided the answer was Yes! James was gone in body and in spirit, at least for the time being. What was left was the sexy lady formed in the aftermath of my two rapes. The loose woman who took her pleasure where she would, and took no prisoners. Would I sleep with Jim? I didn't know. Now that I didn't have Amy or Paul, it was probably only a matter of time before I found someone to share a bed with. Well, that was a question for another day, but I knew it wouldn't be any time soon.

I stripped, showered the sweat from the dancing off, and fell naked into bed. Tomorrow would be busy.

*****

Amy and Paul devoted the day to looking for James/Jamie. Neither was willing to accept that he/she was gone for good. They spent time talking together about how they might find her, or for Amy to sob helplessly on Paul's shoulder. Other times they separated to try places she might go. Their efforts were fruitless, and it was late when Paul dragged himself home to bed.

Friday, Nov. 20

Amy rose early from a restless night, feeling more tired than the evening before. Even coffee didn’t rouse her. She made a list of places to try today, and people to call to ask if they had seen James. Except for Sandy and the other doctors who had treated him, he was not likely to talked to anyone he knew that did not yet know about Jamie. She highlighted Rick Simmons on the list, hoping he might have some insights on what James would do.

Paul was just as exhausted, and had even less of an idea what to do to find Jamie. He was also in turmoil about his boss. With no ideas in mind for the search, he went walking, hoping desperately that Jamie would be waiting for him.

*****

I woke slowly, then sat up in bed and stretched, looking down at my bare body. Streamers of bright autumn sunlight leaked through the curtains and highlighted stripes of my clear skin. I wrapped my arms around myself, giving myself a hug, and reveled in the freedom I felt from James' screwed up life.

The top I donned this morning was a little more demure, coming down almost to my cute little tummy button, but the skirt was deliciously short. Skyscraper heels, of course, and tasteful, well, maybe almost slutty makeup. I admired the lips that Sandy had fashioned. Kissable lips, I thought. Maybe even cocksucker lips. I giggled. No time for breakfast today, besides, my body is my meal ticket for the moment. Have to keep it trim for the boys.

I walked to the corner to buy a paper and a coffee at the Starbucks, then went back to my room to search the classified ads for apartments. I wanted to find something before my week in the motel was over. With a job now, it looked like I might stay in the area awhile. I found several promising ads, plus some listings for apartment finding services. Lots to check out, but I had time.

I pulled out my laptop and connected to the motel's wireless internet. First thing I had to do was set up a new e-mail address. Amy seldom used e-mail, but she did occasionally, and she had access to it from the computer I'd left behind.

Clicking the shortcut I'd saved, I went off to the web site of that doctor, Wells I think his name was. The one with that procedure to disguise my penis, make me look like a girl. I figured I'd been lucky with my one night so far, but I didn't want to push it. Besides, James is gone, at least for now. I need to be me. Jamie.

I reread the information, and then drafted an e-mail to his business address, laying out my femme history, and inquiring what the wait time was for the procedure. I explained I had a new job where the risk of discovery was very real, and I would like to get the procedure as soon as possible, to minimize the discovery risk.

I sent that off, then started calling on the apartment ads. Most of the calls resulted in crossing them off the list. Too expensive, wrong side of town (meaning near Amy), bad vibes. After a couple hours of calling, my list was down to a handful. A very small handful. Oh well, I didn’t have to find one today.

I glanced at my watch. If I left now, I could hit the bank, then get my blood drawn before lunch and have that out of the way. I checked myself over in the mirror, freshened my lipstick, and headed off. First, I found the closest post office, and rented a post office box. Now I had an address I could use. Then I visited a nearby branch of my bank. I changed the address on my new account, and applied for a credit card attached to that account. Next, it was Dr. Myers office for the blood draw. Afterward, I found someplace to eat, and had a shrimp salad with iced tea. Then I looked at my list and headed off to the nearest apartment I hadn't crossed off.

It wasn't a bad place, nor was the rent unreasonable. But it just didn't grab me. I may have to settle for something like this later, but it wasn't going to happen at the first place I checked out.

The next place was a real dump. I didn't even get out of the car. And so it went. None of the places I got to today were perfect enough to jump at. I kept a short list of the places I liked best, but by the end of the day, there were only three of those. So much for a quick and easy find!

On the way back to the motel, I picked up an apartment finder magazine at a convenience store. It was mostly worthless ads, but there were some legitimate entries there.

Back in my room, I pondered what to wear. Then I wondered where to take Jim. I decided I was in the mood for barbeque, so I went with a somewhat western theme. Not that I had any western clothes in what I brought with me. Another pair of really tight, really, really low cut jeans, not flared at the ankle, but wider — a boot cut. The top was like a red, blue, and white checked shirt with mid length sleeves, button front and cropped, with little tails that tied real high up under my boobs. I put my jet hair up in a high ponytail, tied with ribbons to go with the shirt, and that pair of red shoes with the five-inch heels. I carefully applied my makeup, a little less subtle than for daytime. Even a little less subtle than I used to use at night. Then it was out the door, and off to Jim's apartment.

Jim was dressed casually too, faded jeans, flannel shirt, and cowboy boots. We seemed to go together.

I asked if he knew of a good barbeque place in the area, since I was new here, and he directed me. It was great barbeque. I would have to remember this place. It had the whole western theme going, but kind of laid back, kind of tasteful, not blatant. We had a good meal, and I found Jim quite easy to talk to. He was comfortable sharing himself, telling me about his work, his family, what he liked and disliked. I tried to deflect his questions about me, but he drew it out of me over the evening. Of course, it was an edited version of the truth, close enough that I wouldn't have to remember out and out lies. I had lost my computer job, and my loving relationship had fallen apart. There had been another man toward the end, but he too was out of the picture now.

The evening went well. I even tried a little line dancing with him. It was still pretty early when I drove Jim home. I insisted on escorting him to the door, returning his courtesy from yesterday. Besides, kissing is so much better standing at a door than contorted across the middle console of a car. Jim asked me in, but I declined, saying I would see him again soon. He promised to be at my club the next night.

I got home and checked e-mail before bed. I was really surprised that there was a response from the doctor. Well, someone in his office anyway. It detailed the procedure a little more than the website. I'd have to stay the night in their clinic after the procedure, and then would be fairly tender for up to a week. Typical waiting time was 3 to 4 weeks, but quicker appointments were sometimes possible. They asked for a picture, needing to verify that I indeed dressed as a woman, as close as they could come to verifying I was in my RLT at this long distance.

Knowing they wouldn't see it till Monday, I got the built-in webcam in my laptop ready, and then captured several shots. Sticking the best pictures in the reply, I sent it off. Then I kicked my heels into the closet, and dropped my clothes in my dirty clothes pile. I hadn't had the gaff off for a while, so decided to free my willy for the night. Then I gratefully slipped between the sheets and into sleep.

Saturday, Nov. 21

I woke before the wakeup call. At first I was disoriented, wondering where I was. Then it all came crashing back. I almost gave up at that point. But I shook it off, and pulled myself from bed. As I showered, I looked at the pitiful specimen between my legs. Maybe it would just be better to get it cut off. In desperation, I stroked it and teased it, trying to get some reaction. While the sensations were pleasurable, it stayed quite limp. My balls seemed smaller than I remembered too, but I couldn't be sure.

I washed my body, then my hair. Stepping out of the tub, I patted gingerly with the harsh motel towel, and used the blow dryer on my hair. I pulled on some sexy casual clothes, grabbed the apartment finder magazine, and spent the morning in the coffee shop, sipping coffee, eating dry toast and a bowl of fruit, and searching the ads for a new home.

Having gone completely through the half-inch thick magazine, I had dog-eared maybe ten pages that had ads that interested me. I had a few hours before I had to be back to the Lariat Club, so I decided to check out some of the closer ads.

The first stop, I liked the best of what I had seen so far. It was close to the club, and shopping. It was small, but clean, and had a nice layout. Best of all, it had included high-speed internet. The rent wasn't too bad, and I didn't have to sign a lease. I decided to take it, and made arrangements to move in on Tuesday, so they could have their maintenance man fix the few problems I pointed out.

One more problem solved. One more nail in the coffin of my old life.

I wasn't in a hurry to change the address on my bank account, as I figured I might find someplace I liked better before long. I'd just keep using the PO box. But I would have to remember to get the address changed on my driver's license.

With that out of the way, my thoughts turned to my new job. I had been thankful for the distraction of apartment hunting this morning, but now that was gone. I had to show up at around three PM to get indoctrinated, and fill out all the forms, so I had a few hours to go yet. That reminded me, I had to get my social security card changed. I looked up the address of the local SSA office, and went off to see if that was even possible.

I had a salad someplace for lunch after surviving the inquisition of several petty bureaucrats, but at least that was out of the way.

Finally it was time. I drove to the club, and walked backstage. Bill escorted me into his office and offered me a drink. Then he got down to business. He listed the rules the dancers had to live by. Seemed to be pretty basic stuff to me. Dance a certain number of songs during the night. Circulate through the crowd some of rest of the time, encouraging drink purchases. Customers could buy us drinks, but those would come to us as tea, even though the customer paid drink prices. Lap dances for tips were OK, as long as the touching rules were followed. Absolutely no prostitution-related dealings on premises, but I had the impression it was OK away from the club, as long as we were discrete. I could start with the costumes they had, but might want some of my own after I got established.

Then came the paperwork. New name. Old SSN. New address. No phone yet. W4. Sign a copy of the rules. On and on and on.

It was after five when we were done, and Bill sent me out to Misti, who would get me squared away on rotation, costumes, music, etc. She started out by asking what name I wanted to use to dance.

"Huh? What's wrong with Jamie?"

"Nothin, darlin. Just that most girls don't like to use their real names."

"Oh. Right. Um, how about Dawn?"

"Alrighty, Dawn it is. Let's get you outfitted."

I learned I would only do three dances tonight, as it was my first night. Misti let me pick out the costumes, then sent me to the back to choose some music and practice. She came back after awhile with something for me to drink, then watched as I tried to develop routines for each of the costumes. I had some ideas already, but she gave me lots of tips, and the routines got better.

Someone stuck her head in the door and called Misti, who told me "It's time, come on."

I had no idea so much time had passed! I slipped into the first costume I planned to wear, and followed Misti to the dressing room to apply makeup. Then I went toward the stage, clutching my CDs tightly. Misti took them, handed them to someone I couldn't see, and had a few words with him. Next thing I knew, I heard the PA system boom out "Next up is a brand new girl tonight, the winner of the wet T contest this week, lets give a big welcome to Dawn!" Before I knew it, I was pushed out into the bright lights. Moments later, my music started, and I tried to put myself into the rhythm. In what seemed like moments, it was over, and there was applause and hoots and whistles. I pulled my awareness back to the here and now, and circulated for my tips.

Backstage, Misti handed me a top and shorts and told me to put my tips away and get out and circulate. I pulled the skimpy clothes on, marveling at how exposed I felt in them, then slipped through the hallway to the bar area and emerged into a room filled with smoke and noise and bodies, mostly male. I looked around, bewildered, and moved out toward the tables, searching for Jim, hoping he would be there. I finally saw him at a table near the stage. I moved toward him, but found myself in the lap of a guy sitting at the table I was passing.

"That was quite a show, darlin! Let me buy you a drink." He waved a waitress over. "What'll it be, sweetheart?"

I looked at the girl, "Um, you know my favorite."

She responded "Ok, and you sir?" speaking to my somewhat inebriated host.

"Yeah, I'll have another beer."

The waitress disappeared, and I was left trying to figure out what to do, sitting on some strangers lap. I felt a lump growing under my bottom, and looked desperately for an empty chair to move to, but there were none close. Why hadn't Misti briefed me on how to handle this!

I managed to fend off his hands, and exchange a few words with him before the drinks arrived. It looked like a shot of whisky, and I tossed it back in one gulp, then pretended to splutter a bit as if it had burned its way down my throat. There were catcalls and whistles from the other guys at the table, and I was wishing it really had been straight whiskey.

"Here, babe, let me buy you another one."

I gave him a peck on the cheek, and said, "Thanks, you’re a sweetie, but that's my limit right now. I have to get up there and dance again in a few minutes." With that I popped up and fled toward Jim. I made it this time without getting captured again.

I gave him a peck on the cheek as I sat in the extra chair at his table.

"Aw, you're not gonna sit in my lap?" he moaned.

"Maybe later if you're a good boy."

He put an over-dramatic leer on his face. "Oh, I'm good. I'm very, very good!" and wiggled his eyebrows.

I giggled, and swatted his arm. "Behave, you!" Jim was drinking a beer, and I picked up his glass and pulled a long draw from it.

"Hey, I would have bought you one of your own, you know. You don't have to drink all of mine!"

"Sorry, don't have time right now. Got to circulate. You staying around awhile?"

"Sure thing. I can't miss the best damn dancer they got here getting up there to strut her stuff!"

I blushed crimson. "Say, guess what! I found a place today. I move in Tuesday."

"That's great! Need any help?"

"No, but thanks anyway. I don't have much stuff." I felt a jolt of pain flash through me. "I should be all moved in by the time you get off work."

He looked a little disappointed. "Oh, Ok."

"Gotta go, Jim. See you in awhile." Not knowing how soon I would be on again, I scurried backstage to find Misti and see.

Bill stopped me. "Hey, what's the deal drinking the customers beer instead of getting him to buy you one?"

"Sorry, he's a friend. I didn't feel right making him pay a drink price for tea."

"Well, fraternize with your friends on your own time. When you're out front, spend your time with the customers that'll buy you a drink!"

"Ok, Bill. Sorry. Do you know when I'm on again?"

"Nope. But you can check with the DJ through there, he keeps the rotation so he can match your music." He pointed at the dark alcove where Misti had been passing my music CDs.

I checked, and found out I was on in about 20 minutes, so I went to change into the next outfit and redo my makeup.

I made it through the other two dances, and thought I did ok for a beginner. But I hoped I'd get better with a little more practice. After my last dance, I found there were showers we could use, so I rinsed off as quickly as I could, dressed in my own clothes, and did my makeup. Walking out to the front, I found Jim still at the same table, and collapsed into a vacant chair. He asked if I wanted a drink, but I declined. I was too drained, and I still had to drive back to the motel.

I got "home" and fell into bed and sleep immediately.

Sunday, Nov. 22

I didn't want to wake up, but the sunlight was hitting me right in the eyes through the curtain that wouldn't quite close. I managed to get to the bathroom and take care of business. Then the first priority was coffee, even if it was only one of those little two-cup pots that motels have. After drinking the first cup, I was able to pry my eyes open. After the second cup, I figured I could face getting dressed.

I strolled out the door, and let the brisk air revive me, finally bringing me fully awake. In the coffee shop, I had yogurt on fruit, and more coffee. With that out of the way, the only pressing thing I could think of was I needed a phone. In a nearby convenience store, I bought one of those cell phones that you pre-pay the minutes. I figured with the amount of time I would spend on the phone, that would be ok for the foreseeable future. Now I had a phone number without waiting weeks for the phone company.

I drove over to the new apartment, and checked out the neighborhood. I found a park a block or so away, and got out to check it out. There was a walking path, and I strolled along it to see how long it was. I didn't think it was as long as the one I used to use, but wasn't sure.

Not having anything else to do, I went back to the motel and cruised the internet some more, trying to understand if I was really transgendered, or just badly mixed up. By dinnertime, my eyes were beginning to blur, so I knocked off and went out for a bite to eat. I was really looking forward to having access to a kitchen again. That made me think of cooking for Amy, and my eyes grew damp, but I violently pushed those thoughts aside, and ate my dinner salad.

That evening, I watched a little TV, but retired early, and cried myself to sleep.

Monday, Nov. 23

After another tasteless breakfast at the coffee shop, I once again found myself in line at the DMV. I needed to get Amy's address off my license. I had spent a little more time on my grooming than last time, so the new picture was not quite so ghastly. Then it was the bank to order checks with the new address.

Back at the motel, I changed to exercise clothes and spent a couple hours working out in their minimal exercise room. It was empty most of the time, being a workday, but there were a couple of cute guys that spent some time there that I could tease.

In my room, I showered and washed my hair, shaving any stubble I found. I dried my hair and brushed it till it was shiny and silky. With just a towel wrapped around me, I sat at my computer and checked e-mail.

The doctor in Colorado had sent a response. They had given me preliminary approval, based on the pictures I sent, and had reserved an appointment for me just after their Christmas holiday, on January fourth. They quoted the fee for the procedure, and said a deposit was required to hold it. I e-mailed back immediately that I would take it, and that the deposit would be in the mail today. I wrote down the address, so I could get a money order and fill out an envelope when I got one. I was still a little leery of having that procedure on my genitals, but I was more afraid of being found out at work.

Having been kind of depressed recently, I decided to do something about it. I pulled out my laciest black panties and slipped into them, then pantyhose with a faint crosshatch pattern that hinted of fishnet stockings. From the closet I grabbed a really short, tight, black leather miniskirt, and found a gray and white plaid flannel long sleeved shirt. Donning the shirt, I left it unbuttoned deep into my cleavage, and tied the tails of the front up under my braless boobs to give them some support. The skirt left a lot of leg showing, and there was a lot of midriff on view as well. I did my makeup in my new bolder style, even maybe pushing it up a notch more. Cherry red lipstick added a bright contrast to my monochrome clothes. I cleaned off my nail polish and replaced it with red to match my lips then some large gold hoop earrings, a gold bracelet, and several rings. And finally a pair of black five inch pumps. I looked in the little mirror over the dresser, and moved around to try to see everything. I looked pretty good. I thought I just might elevate a few masculine heart rates today, and giggled at the thought.

On my way to work, I stopped at a convenience store to get a money order in the amount of the deposit for my procedure. Then off to one of those mailing places, to send it off in an express letter envelope. Everywhere I went, I was conscious of men staring at me, and I put a little extra wiggle into my walk to keep them watching.

I got to work a little early, and sought out Bill, to add my new phone number to the employment papers. Then I went looking for Misti. I needed advice on how to handle a situation like Saturday, when the guy pulled me into his lap. I also blushed a little when I asked her about lap dancing.

The night went much as Saturday night had, except I ended up doing five dances, and spent more time hustling drinks. Jim wasn't there as a distraction for that part of my job. Employing Misti's advice, I even got a few tips from the guys I sat with. I also got two offers for dates and one proposition to earn $500 for a night of wild sex, all of which I was able to gracefully decline. I ended up getting out of the club sometime after one AM.

Tuesday, Nov. 24

This was moving day. In spite of my late hours last night, I bounced out of bed, did my morning ritual, dressed in the grubbiest clothes I had brought (short shorts and a halter top), and then packed everything into my suitcases. It only took about an hour to pack, and then search the room carefully for anything I might have missed. I checked out of the motel, and then found a grocery store to pick up some cleaning supplies. I drove to the new apartment, and found my new parking space, then had to wait about 15 minutes for the office to open before I could get my key.

First thing was to clean the kitchen and bathroom, plus all the drawers in the bedroom. That took the rest of the morning, so I took a break and got a quick salad for lunch. On the way back, I stopped at the grocers again and stocked up with food and utensils. Back at the apartment, I carried everything inside, and got the food put away, then unpacked my suitcases.

I just had time to fix, eat, and clean up a meal in my new kitchen before I had to be off to work. On an impulse, before I walked out the door, I pulled out my new cell phone and dialed Jim.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jim."

"Oh, hi, Jamie! How are you doing? Did you get moved OK?"

"Yes, and I was thinking, now that I have my own kitchen, maybe you'd like to have dinner over here tomorrow, before I go to work?"

"Sure, Jamie, that would be great! I've been wanting to see you again."

"Me too. Can you be here by 5:30? Then, maybe you'd like to go to the club with me and watch me dance again?"

"I'd love to. I'll be there!"

"Good. See you then. Bye."

Tonight at work was pretty much a repeat of last night, except I was tired going in, so the night dragged by, and I was exhausted by the time it was over.

Wednesday, Nov. 25

When I woke, the clock said it was after ten! I guess I'd really worn myself out, what with the moving and the extra dancing last night. It felt great to be able to just eat in for breakfast. The restaurant slop had gotten very tiresome.

I went out and found a small TV to buy for the apartment, plus a few other odds and ends to give it a bit homier feel. It was just a quick trip, and I got back in time to have some tuna and crackers for lunch. I checked and refreshed my makeup, then headed out to Dr. Myers office. After a brief wait, I was shown into his office, and he bustled in just minutes later.

He was looking at the lab results as he came in. "Hmm. Good news, maybe. Estrogen levels are down, so maybe those implants are finally wearing off. Now you are just about the level of a mature woman, way down from a pubescent teen. And T level is a bit higher. I wouldn't expect it to come up much, as the presence of Estrogen in the current levels will keep it suppressed. But it’s encouraging that it is up at all. It may mean there is some hope. See me again in two weeks, and get your blood drawn four or five days in advance." With that he was out the door.

I've never seen anyone that could talk like that man!

At least the news wasn't depressing.

On the way home, I made another stop at the grocery store, as I wanted to do something a bit special for Jim tonight.

My thoughts turned a little sad. Jim seemed like such a nice guy. Oh, there was no fire there, like there had been with Amy, nor even a spark like with Paul. He was pleasant to spend time with. But it couldn't go anywhere. I was no good for him.

By 5:30 I had the garlic bread in the oven, the spaghetti sauce and noodles going in their separate pots, and was putting the finishing touches on a salad. The doorbell rang just a few moments later, and when I opened the door, Jim swept me into his arms and gave me a kiss.

"Howdy, Tiger!" I purred at him.

"Hello yourself! It's good to see you again. I've been looking forward to this all day!"

"Well, if you don't let me go, your dinner won't be worth eating!"

"Who cares about dinner? You look good enough to eat!"

I slipped under his arms and dashed to the kitchen to rescue the bread. "There's wine on the counter here, would you pour please? Sorry about the plastic cups, I don't have the kitchen fully stocked yet."

I finished the salad while he prepared the wine, then shooed him out to the table with the wine and salad while I served two plates of spaghetti, and brought them out after him.

We ate in silence, but I was aware of his eyes on me most of the time. It made me blush to be the focus of that intent scrutiny.

Finally he said, "So, how is the dancing going?"

"Ok, I guess. I still have a lot to learn. Especially about handling the rowdier guys while I'm out front encouraging the drink sales. And I was pretty tired after last night."

"I'm really looking forward to watching you again tonight."

"Good, it will be fun to have you there."

I washed up the dishes, then got ready for work. I was learning to dress a bit tarty to go to work, since it was good advertising for the club as I was coming or going. That went for the makeup as well. But then, that was what fit the new me best anyway.

I settled for my leather miniskirt, and a tube top that came close enough to supporting my boobs that I could skip the bra. I giggled when I saw my nipples poking through the fabric. Dramatic eye shadow in shades of blue, heavy on the eyeliner and mascara, sparkly red lipstick to match my nails, and I was ready to go.

I told Jim I'd drive tonight, then he wouldn't have to worry about how much he drank.

The crowd was more than I expected for a Wednesday, and the tips were pretty good too. I made it through the evening better than last night, probably because of the good nights sleep. I was getting a little better at putting routines together, but I still had to spend too much time in the back room working them out. I envied the more experienced girls who could whip it out on the fly.

I was pleasantly tired by closing, and Jim had a nice buzz, but wasn't drunk by any means. I drove us back to my place, and Jim walked me to the door, where he held me tenderly, and kissed me. I was a little sad, because I knew I was going to have to break it off with him for his sake. I had hurt too many people, and he was too nice a guy to hurt like that. I decided the give him a proper farewell, though. I kissed him back, putting a bit more spirit into it, as well as a little tongue. By the time we broke that kiss, we were both panting. I unlocked the door then stretched up and nipped his ear, and whispered, "Want to come in for a bit?"

He pulled me up till my lips met his and my feet dangled above the ground, and then walked through the door, kicking it shut behind him. Before it even latched, I was unbuttoning his shirt, but the kiss was so distracting, I wasn't making much headway.

After we broke off the kiss, I could work my fingers a little better. But I began wondering if this was what I really wanted. Then I remembered Jerry and Marv, and what I had done with them. At least this time it would be my choice. And what else would anybody expect from a little slut like me?

Before I got his buttons all open, Jim had set me down, and slipped his hands up under my tube top, generating very pleasant sensations inside me by gently massaging my boobs and tweaking my nipples. With the shirt finally open, he paused long enough to strip out of it, then jerked my top up and attacked my left nipple with teeth, lips and tongue. I moaned and pulled his head tight against me, then started backing into the bedroom, pulling him along behind me.

I swung him around so he landed on the bed, then quickly pulled the tube top over my head, and pounced on him, straddling his hips, with my mouth glued to his, and my hands frantically working the button and zipper on his jeans. When that finally gave way, I popped back off the bed, grabbed his pants and briefs, and yanked them down over his feet, taking his shoes along with them. I paused long enough to push my skirt down to the floor, leaving me in my panties and heels, and him in his socks. I urged him back up so he was completely on the bed, then straddled him again, deep kissing him, and feeling his rapidly stiffening cock against my belly. I squirmed around, rubbing his cock head all over my tummy and panties, and down through my crotch, all the time keeping him in a lip lock.

After a few minutes of that, I started wriggling down, kissing his chin, his throat, his hard chest. I nipped his tiny nipples, causing him to jolt, and then worked my way down over his abs, finally arriving at the nest of hair above my target. I reared back up on my knees over him, and carefully took his pole in both my hands, and started to stroke it lovingly. Jim closed his eyes and moaned.

I kept that up for several minutes, then crawled backward, and leaned down to kiss the drop of pre-cum from the tip. I hesitated a moment, realizing this would be the first time I'd broken my wedding vows by my own choice. Did I want to? That part of my life was over. I had to look for fun where I could find it, and with this sexy body, my best source of that was pleasing men, as Jerry and Marv had so well impressed on me!

My lips opened and slipped slowly over the bulb, while my tongue swirled around the tip. I had now crossed a line, and I knew there was no going back. I kept up a gradual descent, keeping my tongue in motion the whole time. When the tip hit the back of my throat, I shifted a bit, and pushed forward some more, till my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I lightly scratched his scrotum, and made a rumbling growl deep in my throat, transferring the vibration to Jim. He lunged his hips forward reflexively, driving the shaft even deeper down my throat, but I didn't retreat. Yet. A few moments later I pulled slowly back, till he almost popped out of my mouth, back down to the bottom, pause, lick, rumble, up. I set up a gradually increasing rhythm, and Jim matched it with his driving hips. It was only a short while later that I felt him stiffen, his cock grew, and suddenly there were jets of fire pulsing down my throat. I bobbed up and down, working to extend his climax, doing my best to swallow whatever he shot.

Then he relaxed, and stopped moving. I licked around his shaft, and kissed the tip gently before crawling up and snuggling against him.

After awhile, when his breathing had slowed, his hand began to wander over my body, touching everywhere he could reach. He kept this up a long time before he focused his attention on my boobs. He switched sides often, teasing my nipples back to steel hardness. He leaned over and sucked one nipple into his mouth, then continued to vacuum up the tit flesh around it till his mouth was stuffed with as much as he could fit in. His tongue worked my nipple inside his mouth like a pro. His hand kept the second of my twin peaks busy, until he switched sides to favor the other one with his mouth for a while. Changing sides periodically, he continued to stimulate, building the fire higher within me, causing me to writhe under his assault, until the heat exploded through my body, and I spasmed and arched my back off the bed, finally collapsing as the heat faded.

As I drifted in lassitude, Jim let his hands wander. I roused enough to stop the one that was approaching my hidden secret, and whispered, "Not down there, please." His hand moved away.

We drifted off to sleep cuddled together.

Thursday, Nov. 26

I woke Jim in the dawn by deep throating his morning woody. He reared up in bed, looking down at the top of my head as I worked his tool, then settled back and closed his eyes again, this time not in sleep. It wasn't long before I was gifted with more liquid fire.

I rose from the bed, and strutted to the bathroom, swinging my ass and looking provocatively back over my shoulder. When I came out awhile later, I wore my sheer robe, panties, and high heeled slippers. I strolled past Jim and out to the kitchen to start coffee, bacon, eggs and toast.

Jim emerged a few minutes later, dressed in his clothes from last night, and took the coffee mug I offered. I pointed him to the table, and a minute later laid a plate in front of him piled high with bacon and eggs. I sat across from him nibbling a piece of toast and a strip of bacon, watching his face as he ate. I needed to remember that face. He'd been there when I needed him.

When he finished, I stretched across the table and laid my hands on his. "Jim." He looked at me and I looked deep into his eyes, then away to hide the tear that was swelling in my eye. "You're a good guy, Jim. You've been a good friend, right when I really needed a friend. Thank-you." He started to speak, but I held my hand up to stop him. "Like I said, you're a good guy. I'm not good for good people. I hurt them. I bring pain. I can't see you any more."

"Jamie…"

The tears were starting to leak out of my eyes now. "No, Jim. You finish up now, and go on to work. Forget about me, Jim. I'm no good for you. I don't want to end up hurting you." I dashed from the table and closed the bedroom door firmly behind me, leaning against it and sobbing quietly.

Jim pounded on the door. "Jamie, open up."

"No. Go away." I screamed. There was silence for a long time.

"I have to go now, Jamie. I will be back. We need to talk."

"No!" I screamed.

After awhile, I heard the front door close, and I slid down to the floor, curled into a fetal position, and continued to sob. I must have fallen asleep because the next I knew it was getting dark. I pulled myself up and listlessly got ready for work.

I opened my laptop and checked e-mail. There was another one from Dr. Wells. There had been a cancellation for next Tuesday, was I interested? I fired off a quick call to the club, to talk to Bill. Fortunately, he was there.

"Hi, Bill. It's Jamie."

"Hi, Jamie, everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Uh, Bill, you remember when I took the job; I said I needed a week sometime to straighten out some personal business? I don't know if you've decided to let me stay, but if you're going to, could I possibly take this next week off? It's really kind of urgent to get this taken care of quickly."

"Jamie, that’s going to be pretty hard so soon after you started, are you sure it has to be right away?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Please, Bill, it's really important."

"Ok, Jamie. We'll work around it somehow. And by the way, if you keep up like you've been so far, you'll be around longer than this week."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I really appreciate this, Bill. See you this evening. Bye."

I fired an e-mail off to Colorado right away, saying I would take it, and requesting a quick reply so I could make travel arrangements.

As I finished getting ready for work, my thoughts circled back around to Jim. I would miss him, but he was better off without me. Then I thought about what I had done last night and this morning. I had been unfaithful to Amy voluntarily for the first time. I am supposed to be a man, yet I had sucked a guy’s cock. Twice! I guess this just proves what I've believed since Halloween. I am a worthless slut. Someone who takes her clothes off for the entertainment of others. Some one who sleeps around. Oh, God. I had unprotected sex last night! I could have AIDS! I may not have much of an opinion of myself, but I sure don't want to kill myself, especially in such a horrible way.

I decided that since I couldn't seem to control my baser instincts, I better keep protection on hand, and make sure I use it the next time I slip. I also need to get an HIV test soon. Wonder how long I have to wait before it could show up in the test?

On the way to work, I stopped at a drug store and picked up a box of condoms, and slipped several into my purse as I climbed back into the car.

My first dance tonight must have reflected my depression, because the tips were definitely light, and when I got backstage, Bill dragged me off to the side and told me to get my act together (no pun intended) or I wouldn't have to worry about taking next week off.

So instead of mingling with the customers, I went back to the back room to practice and try to get my head back into the game. It must have worked, because the rest of my dances got a better response, and Bill didn't chew me out again.

Friday, Nov. 27

When I checked e-mail after lunch, Dr. Wells' office confirmed me for Tuesday, and supplied instructions about not eating after noon Monday, and to be at the clinic by seven AM.

I immediately used the internet to make reservations to fly up Monday, and to fly back Wednesday. Then I found a motel near the clinic, and booked a room for Monday night.

That night at work was a little different. The dancing went better, but the real twist was after the first dance, when I went out front to "mingle", a guy dragged me into his lap.

"Hey, cutie. How about having a little drink with me?"

I gave him a little smile. "Ok by me." But instead of signaling a waitress, he handed me a whiskey glass from his table about half full of an amber liquid, neat. It was one of several sitting there.

"Here, babe. Try some of the good stuff, this is Jameson's."

I took a sip, and it burned deliciously all the way down. So I took a little bigger swallow. I felt the warmth spreading out from my tummy. "Not bad!"

"Got that right, honey, this is the best!"

He kept me on his lap till I had to be backstage for my next dance. Before I got up, he stuffed a $20 bill into my bra, and said there would be another one if I came back after the next dance. So I did, and he pulled me into his lap again, and shoved another glass of whiskey into my hand. Same thing, drink the glass of whiskey, sit in his lap till I go backstage, dance, then back to him for another $20, and another Jameson's.

This lasted all evening, then he asked me back for another drink after my last song. By that time, I'd had four of those tumblers of whiskey, and I was feeling pretty good, so I agreed. We sat and watched the last few dancers, and walked out together when closing came. Or rather, he walked and I staggered, leaning on him. Outside, he whispered in my ear, "How about coming to my place for one last drink?" I obviously wasn't thinking straight, because I agreed. He escorted me to his car and held the door for me, then went around to slide behind the wheel. 'Nice car', I thought. 'Jaguar XK8. Just a bit out of my class.' I snuggled down into the leather seat, and watched dreamily as the buildings slid past. I fished in my purse and found several condoms, slipping them into my jeans pocket. I had a feeling how this evening would end. I couldn't tell you where we went; only that it wasn't far before he parked in the garage of what turned out to be a pretty swank condo.

Inside, it was obviously a guys place. Probably had a cleaning service, or a maid. Everything was neat, clean, expensive, modern, and lacking any personal touch. He led me to a comfy leather sofa, then went to a wet bar and came back with two generous tumblers of what I assumed was more Jameson's, since he seemed to favor that. Handing me one glass, he sat beside me.

"You're a beautiful woman, Dawn."

I was feeling no pain by this time. "Why thank you, um…"

"Rob."

"Rob." I looked over his face, and lean muscled body, and said, "And you're a beautiful man, Rob." I giggled.

"Why, thank you!" he laughed. Then he tipped my chin up with his forefinger, and leaned down to kiss me. He held the kiss for a moment, and then I felt his tongue swipe my lips. He pulled back and looked at me, then took my glass and set it with his on the glass-topped coffee table. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed with more fire, probing with his tongue, until I let my lips part so he could enter. My head was already spinning from the whiskey, and the kiss wasn't helping any. I didn't feel his gentle touch on my breast right away. It didn't penetrate my fogged brain until a moan escaped my lips, and I realized it was because of the tingling spreading over me from the nipple he was tweaking through my top.

He stood, and scooped me up in his arms, walking toward a hallway.

"Rob?" He quieted me with another lingering kiss. He laid me on a bed, and our lips separated. "Rob, I don't think…" His mouth closed over mine again. His hand went to my boob again, then after a bit, while the kiss still held, slipped under the edge of my cropped top, and up over the mound of flesh to the hard nub at its crown. I moaned into his mouth. Now his hand slid my top up around my neck, baring both tits, and he divided his attention between the now revealed breasts. Then his mouth left mine and sucked in one nipple, and shortly my moaning increased. I tried again, "Rob…" His attack escalated, with both hands and his mouth moving, kissing, stroking, sucking, tweaking, nipping, pinching, licking, and my protest trailed off into a moan. "Rob…" he pulled back abandoning my boobs, "…don't stop!" I realized he was pulling off his shirt, and in moments he was giving me the pleasure I craved. One hand worked the button on my jeans, but they were so tight he was making little headway. Without volition, I realized my hands were down there, succeeding where his had failed, and then pulling down the zipper for good measure. I fished the foil packets out of the now loosened pocket and stretched to lay them on the nightstand. He slipped my five-inch pumps off my feet, then tugged the skin-tight jeans down, and finally off, leaving me in just my panties and the top that was tangled around my neck.

I felt his hand moving toward my buried treasure, but even in my current muddled state, I was quite sure he wouldn't appreciate what was actually hidden there. So I pushed him back and attacked his slacks, then pulled off his shoes, socks and pants. I giggled at the red silk boxers he was left with, and then stripped them off as well. What had appeared to be a bump in the front of the boxers turned out to be a flagpole instead, because it poked straight up when the boxers came down. That got another giggle out of me. I leaned over him, dangling my DD's over his member, swinging them to slap him around, then dragging them back and forth. Placing my hands on the outer sides of my pendulous boobies, I squeezed them together around his cock, and then moved them up and down, stroking his erection. Rob lay back on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head, watching the show.

I peeked up at him from under my hanging hair, and grinned foolishly. Then I pulled back, grabbed a foil packet from the nightstand, ripped it open and smoothed the condom onto him. I started to lick his lollypop, around the top a few times, then full length top to bottom, and back up. I moved down and gently sucked one of his balls into my mouth, swirling it carefully around with my tongue, then let it pop out so I could move up and engulf the head. I just sucked on that for a while, gently, then stronger, then gently again. I took most of his length into my mouth, and started bobbing up and down, swishing my tongue around at the same time.

He grabbed my head with both hands to stop it. "Wait…" he whimpered. I froze for a few moments, and then started swabbing him with my tongue. He groaned, "Stop!" But I just kept licking. He quickly pulled my head up off of him, all the while panting.

He flipped me over on the bed and reached for my panties. "Unh, unh, unh!" I waggled my finger in his face.

"I want inside you!"

I was pretty far gone with the booze and my arousal, but still knew what a disaster that could be. "Sorry, pussy's off limits tonight." He frowned, and I giggled, "but there is another opening available." I rolled onto my tummy, pulled up onto my knees, and stuck my bottom in the air. A look of astonishment flashed across his face, but then he was reaching into the nightstand drawer for a tube of lubricant gel. He crawled up behind me, and pulled the back of my panties down. I felt something chilly against my sphincter, which I tried to relax. Something slipped inside, moving in and out easily, spreading the slippery gel. Then it withdrew, and I felt something much larger press against me. I was pretty loose from the drinks, so I didn't tense up as he slid into me. There was only a slight twinge of pain; totally unlike the agony I endured the last time.

He slid slowly in a bit, then out a little, then in a bit more, working his way ever deeper, till he could go no further. He started a slow pumping movement, gradually increasing the speed. By now, all pain was either gone, or it just didn't register. But the feeling of pleasure was growing. Rob reached around me with one hand, kneading one breast while his other hand rested on my rounded ass cheek. The sensations were starting to overwhelm me, and I was moaning continuously. I felt his rhythm start to get ragged, and then he started squirting his seed into the condom. He spurted for long seconds, and then resumed the rhythm. The pressure building in me continued to grow, then he pulled back his hand and gave my ass a resounding smack, and that tipped me over the brink. I shook and felt electric arcs shooting through every part of my body, then when it finally faded, I collapsed on the bed, pulling him out of me in the process.

I was dazed, and exhausted, and just curled up on my side, pulling my panties back into place. A few moments later, I felt a large warm body curl around me and pull me close. Soon after, I heard heavy breathing behind me, and slowly drifted into sleep myself.

He took my rear entry again sometime during the night, while I was mostly asleep, then another time as the early morning sun shone through the window. The condom packets on the nightstand were gone. I sure hope he thought to use them because I was too sleepy to remember.

Saturday, Nov. 28

I was walking kind of gingerly when I got out of bed. My abused anus was complaining about any movement. We dressed, and Rob drove me back to my car at the club. He was the gentleman again, opening his car door for me, then mine after I had unlocked it.

I slid behind the wheel, and he leaned in to give me a kiss. As he pulled back, he stuffed something into my bra cup, tweaking my nipple at the same time. "Thanks for the great night, babe." Then my car door was closed and he was back in his car and gone.

I reached into my bra to fish out whatever he left, and found five crisp hundred-dollar bills. Ok, now I can add hooker to slut, tramp, and all the other tawdry labels I knew applied to me. I wasn't a bit surprised that I had come to this.

I drove back to my place, letting my mind wander where it would. I wondered how Amy and Paul were doing, and felt a stab of jealousy and pain. Shoving that ruthlessly aside, I thought about what I would do today, but came up blank.

I removed the gaff, and then took a shower, making sure I washed off all my makeup from last night. I lay down on the bed naked, and dozed off. I hadn't had much sleep last night.

I woke up with a hollow spot in my tummy, and saw it was after three. Guess I had a pretty good nap. I drifted out to the kitchen, not bothering with clothes, and fixed something light to eat. Sitting at the table, I wondered what to do. Well, it is Saturday. Erin suggested I visit Mikaela's on a Friday or Saturday, to meet more of the community. She said there was dancing, and maybe I could get some additional perspective on my gender problems.

I didn't expect the crowd would get very big till on toward eight, so I had some time. I tidied up around the place, still naked, letting my wee willy dangle free. This was the longest it had been out of captivity for ages. It was looking kind of shriveled, and white, and more wrinkled than usual. I examined it more closely. I could not see that it was either better or worse than before. About 6:30 I showered again, then glued it back into its prison to begin getting ready.

I chose a royal blue minidress with a halter-top, which left a plunging neckline in front. It needed a strapless bra, so I found a black one, and matching panties. I cleaned the red polish off my finger and toenails, and redid them in a plum color. Makeup was next, more subdued that I wore to the club, but bolder than I used to wear. I smoothed nude sandal toe pantyhose up my legs, and stepped into the dress, fastening the halter behind my neck. I slipped into matching blue open toed sandals with four-inch heels, and then selected jewelry to complement. Finally, a few dabs of perfume, and I was ready to meet the world.

At Mikaela's, I stopped inside the door to look around. My gaze swept the crowded tables, and then scanned back. On the second pass, I saw an arm and hand waving excitedly in my direction from a table toward the back. Glancing around to make sure it wasn't intended for someone else, I started making my way across the room, and as I approached, I saw that it was indeed Erin.

"Jamie! It's so good to see you! I was afraid after all this time that you wouldn't come back! My, don't you look fantastic!" she gushed.

"Hi, Erin. You look pretty hot tonight, too. Yeah, a lot has happened since I was here last."

"Hey, everyone, this is Jamie." She said to the others at her table. "Join us, won't you, Jamie?" There were two apparent girls, including Erin, and two seeming guys. In this place you just couldn't tell, though.

"Ok, if I'm not imposing." Everyone seemed agreeable, so I slid into a chair.

A waitress showed up then, so I ordered a rum and coke.

Introductions were made, and their conversation picked up, presumably where it left off. I managed a word now and again, but mostly just listened and sipped my drink.

After awhile, a band started playing. They sounded pretty good. I didn't dance a lot, but I danced a couple fast songs with all of us girls together, and a few songs with each of the guys, some of them slow, some fast. It was fun, and relieved some of the tension that was an ever-present companion.

We three girls made a potty run part way through the evening, and freshened our makeup while we were there. It turned out that the others at our table were exactly what they appeared. Erin was the only 'alternative' in our group. The others had found the place through friends and acquaintances, and had become semi-regulars, forming other friendships among the clientele, including Erin.

Erin announced that it was time for her to leave about 10:30, and I was ready to go by then too. We walked out together, and stopped by her car to talk.

"So, Jamie, got any plans for tomorrow?"

"Um, no, not really. I have to do some packing for a little trip I'm taking. Other than that, just get settled into my new place."

"Would you like to meet for lunch? You still owe me your story, and I intend to collect!"

We arranged to meet at a little Italian place called Tony's at noon. She gave me a peck on the cheek, and climbed into her car. As I drove home, I wondered how much I should really tell her, and how to fill in the gaps I chose not to reveal. My mind chewed on the problem all night, so my sleep wasn't very restful.

Sunday, Nov. 29

It was late when I finally roused myself. A peek at the clock said it was after ten. In the bathroom, I drew a hot bath, and used some of Amy's bath oil. It felt good to just soak, but I finally got moving to shave any stubble, and wash my body. I opened the drain and stood under the shower to rinse off, then wash and condition my hair.

When I came back into the bedroom, I thought about what to wear. I settled on the green slacks ensemble I had selected while trying to find a style for Jamie. I wanted to give Erin a good impression. With my current self-image, I wasn't quite sure why, but I felt it was important.

I went with the barely there look for my makeup, more like I wore when I resembled Amy. I slipped into the least provocative lingerie I had, which was probably about like Amy's sexiest. Then the hunter green slacks, light green embroidered blouse, and the sweater. I brushed my hair till it cascaded smooth and sleek down to the tops of my shoulders. I dabbed on just a touch of perfume, found a little jewelry to wear, placed the appropriate items in a simple black purse, and was ready.

I got to Tony's a little early, after a bit of a search. It was a nice looking little neighborhood place, and thankfully wasn't crowded today. They showed me to a table, but I asked if we could use a secluded booth in one corner. They seated me there, left two menus, and brought an iced tea I asked for.

Erin showed up about five minutes later, looked around, then saw me wave and came to join me.

"Hi, Jamie. You look really nice today."

"Thanks, so do you!"

The waitress approached and asked if we were ready to order. We weren't, but Erin asked for an iced tea also. She said she would be back and left us to look over the menus for a few minutes.

From behind hers, Erin said, "So you have a new place, huh?"

"Um, yeah."

"Is it nice? Are you getting settled in OK?"

"Yes, it's pretty nice. I have a few things yet to get to make it home."

The waitress came for our orders, delivering Erin's tea. Erin ordered the veal parmesan, and I chose spaghetti with marinara, and a side salad.

When the waitress left, Erin looked me up and down. "That's kind of a light lunch, isn't it? It doesn't look like you need to lose any weight. If anything, I think you ought to be putting on a few pounds."

I blushed. "It's just a habit I've formed since I started dressing. Besides, I have to keep trim for my new job."

"Oh ho! New place, new job. What happened to the old ones?"

I took a deep breath. "I got fired from my job for looking like this. And I've separated from my wife, and had to move out of our house."

She looked sad, "Oh, Jamie, I'm so sorry. Couldn't your wife handle your dressing, your changes?"

"No. She handled them OK, in fact she had a big part in them. I just had to get away before I hurt her any more." I felt tears welling in my eyes, and fought to keep them back.

Erin reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Sweetie, I'm sorry I've upset you. Let's not talk about that right now, OK?" I nodded, afraid to speak. "You've got a lot to deal with. Why don't we defer the story till after lunch? We can go back to my place, or to yours, where it is a little more private." I nodded again.

Our food arrived, and I took a few bites of salad, while Erin oh'ed and ah'ed over her veal.

"So, you're going on a trip? Vacation? Business?"

I thought how to answer. "Neither, medical."

"Oh, nothing serious, I hope." There was her instant concern again. "You sure don't need any medical problems with all you have going on!"

"No, nothing serious. Just a cosmetic procedure to help me pass better in my new job."

She scrutinized my face and upper body. "You pass pretty darned well. What else could you possibly need?"

I blushed again. "Um, down below."

Erin gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Not 'the operation'! I thought you said you weren't sure about that."

"No! Nothing like that. There's this doctor up in Colorado that does some kind of a tuck thing so you can pass a fairly close inspection. It's nothing permanent, and there's no major surgery, no vagina or clitoris. Just a camouflage job."

Erin giggled. "Neat! But why would you need something to pass on your job. What do you do?"

I started blushing again. "I started last week at the Lariat Club."

"That place over on Third? It's a strip joint, isn't it? Are you waitressing there? You sure have the figure for those skimpy costumes cocktail waitresses always seem to wear."

My blush was threatening to light up the whole room. I mumbled, "No, I dance."

Erin's hand flew over her mouth again, and her eyes just about popped out of her head. "You strip?" she gasped, then looked around quickly to see if anyone heard. I just nodded, looking down. She whispered this time, "My God! You're pre-op and you take your clothes off on a stage in front of a bunch of horny guys?"

I nodded again. She looked at me in awe. "How could something like that happen? And aren't you afraid of being spotted?"

I answered her second one first, "Yes! And that's the reason for the trip. And how it happened? A guy I was with talked me into a wet T-shirt contest. I was a bit drunk, so I agreed. I came in third, and the top three places got to come back the next night to dance a routine for $100. I was still pretty drunk at the time, so I agreed to that too. I was petrified before that one dance, but I got through it, and it was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. After that, they offered us a chance to dance once more as an audition for a job. I was the only one that tried it. That second dance was easier, and just as exciting. It got me hooked, so when they offered me the job, I said yes, since I was out of work and needed an income. I've danced five routines each night this last week."

Erin had sat in stunned silence through this whole explanation, her food forgotten in front of her. "Wow!" She stuck a bite of veal in her mouth and chewed absently. "Wow!" She looked at her half finished veal and my almost untouched pasta. "You haven't eaten much. Are you going to? I've just got to get you alone and hear this whole thing!"

I looked at the salad I had almost finished and the pasta, but my stomach was in knots. I had no desire for food right then. "I don't think so. Let's go."

Erin insisted on paying, and rushed me out the door. We decided to go to my place, so Erin followed me in her car. Inside, she looked around.

"Have a seat, would you like a glass of wine?"

"Yeah, that would be great." She sat on the couch.

I went to the kitchen and brought two plastic cups of chilled white wine, handing one to her, and taking mine to sit in the chair across from her.

She couldn't wait. "Ok, spill. I want the whole scoop. How could you possibly look so good after only two months, and how did it happen if you were never into cross-dressing?"

I collected my thoughts for a moment, then told her of Amy, and our loving relationship, then Sandy, Amy's friend, and the friction between us. Then came Sandy's challenge, for me to look and act like Amy at the Halloween party. The cosmetic surgery and implants that Sandy performed, the studying my beloved Amy, the voice practice, the mannerisms. Fearfully going out as Amy's near double, the beauty shop and shopping. Social situations. Meeting Paul, friendship which may have evolved into love. Then the discovery of hormone and anti-androgen overdose. How my body developed further, the loss of male function. Finally the Halloween party. I very carefully left out mention of the rapes. I could not share that shame with Erin.

Then after the party, my tailspin into depression first because of not being able to go back, then losing my contract, then losing the last chance at Paul's company. Changing my legal name. My departure to shield Amy and Paul from pain. Getting drunk the night I left, and meeting Jim, the wet T-shirt contest, and the job offer at the strip club. I told about finding this place and moving in. Again, I left out my goodbye night with Jim, and the night with Rob, and his payment for it.

Erin sat dumbstruck through the entire narration. She had refilled our glasses several times while I purged my soul. When I wound down, she stared at me for a long time in silence, sipping her wine.

"You lied to me, girl!" Oh, god, what had she figured out. Could she suspect the rapes? "You told me I'd be bored with your story. You held me spellbound the whole time. This is almost unbelievable."

I hung my head. "It's all true." I was just barely holding myself together after relating my fall from happiness.

She watched me silently for a few minutes, and then knelt in front of me, putting her hands on my shoulders. "There's more, isn't there?"

My body shook as a huge sob erupted from deep within me. She pulled me to her, and wrapped her arms around me, resting my head on her shoulder. "Tell me, please." I shook my head. Tears leaked from my tightly shut eyelids, soaking into the fabric of her blouse. "Shhh. It'll be alright. Let it all out."

I shook my head again and moaned, "Noooo. It will never be alright again. Don’t you see? I've lost my wife, my soul mate. She must despise me. And I can't live without her!"

Erin pulled back and lifted my chin, but I kept my eyes tightly closed. "Look at me." I shook my head. "LOOK AT ME!" I reluctantly opened my streaming eyes, and she searched their depths. "Why would she hate you?" I remained silent. She whispered, "There's more, isn't there?" I hung my head and nodded. "Please, tell me."

I choked words out around my sobs, relating a barely coherent description of my encounters with Jerry and Dr. Albert. How I finally understood what an awful person I really was, how I fled to protect Amy. How I willingly betrayed Amy with Jim, and how I became a whore with Rob.

She held me tightly, rocking me back and forth. "You poor dear. No one should have to suffer what you've been through. None of this is your fault. You were manipulated, and taken advantage of. You were stripped of your self-respect, and put in a position where you hated yourself. But I feel your strength, your inner beauty. You will beat this. You will!"

She held me awhile longer, and then guided me to the bed. Turning down the covers, she gently helped me out of my sweater, blouse, and slacks, laying them neatly over the back of a chair, then lay me on the bed. She searched my closet and dresser, finally coming up with only a couple transparent baby doll sets. "Don't you have anything decent to sleep in, girl?"

"Don't you get it? People like me don't sleep in flannel nighties. Whores flaunt their bodies!" That set me off into another spate of sobs.

She shushed me, and slipped my bra off, and the red baby doll over my head and down over my body. Then she pulled my panties off and put the matching red panty on me, then pulled the covers over me. I lay there and shivered and sobbed. Erin went to the kitchen and made a quiet call on her cell phone, then came back.

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight, Jamie. I just called my roommate to tell her I was staying here."

Erin shut off all the lights and checked the lock on the door. I heard a rustle of clothes in the darkness, and then felt the bed sag as she climbed in. Then I felt the warmth of her body snuggle against my back, and arms wrap around me. "You sleep now, Jamie. I'm right here. You're not alone."

I didn't think I'd sleep soon, but the next I knew light was streaming in the window, leaking through my closed eyelids.

Monday, Nov. 30

I felt the warm limbs tangled around me, and whispered "Morning, Amy my love." Then I remembered. Amy is gone. It took me awhile longer to piece together where I was, and who was in bed with me. I peeled my eyelids open, and slid away from the warm body, then propped myself on an elbow to take in my sleeping companion. We had kicked the covers off during the night, and I could see she had donned my royal blue baby doll with no panties. I gazed at her lovely body revealed by the near transparent garment. She was beautiful. And this felt right. The way it ought to be. There should be a soft feminine body there, not a hairy masculine one. Now if there was only some way it could be my true love.

As she slept, my gaze roamed over Erin. I already knew her cute face. It was hard to believe she had been born male. And I suspected since she was having to save for the final surgery that she'd had almost no cosmetic procedures. Moving down, the baby doll shadowed, but failed to hide a pair of pert breasts, about B cup, or a tad smaller. Very nice, though, and I had the urge to reach out and caress them. Moving my eyes downward, I saw her flat tummy and attractively narrow waist, flaring out to slim but feminine hips. At the vee of her legs, there was a tuft of silky hair with a miniature penis peeking out. The rest of her genitalia was hidden from my view. Further down she had long, slim, toned legs that many women would envy, and many men would ogle. Even her ankles and feet seemed feminine. Once again, had it not been for the one flaw hiding in her pubic hair, I would never have believed she had not been born female.

I fought the urge to stroke her lovely body, and just drank in the sight with my eyes. As if she felt my gaze, her eyes slowly opened to see me staring at her. She blushed demurely, but did not move to cover herself. "Morning," she said as she stretched languidly. Then she let her eyes roam over my body similarly revealed. She curled around for a better look between my legs. "Mind if I peek?" She looked up at me, and I shook my head. She slipped my baby doll panties down, baring the imitation vagina. "Amazing! I've never seen anything like this." She poked at it, and then began exploring the folds. As she probed deeper, I felt a twitch from the buried organ, then when she stroked the right place, I moaned. "Oh, sorry." She examined the edges where it was glued to me. Then she pushed away and gracefully stood beside the bed, again stretching her lithe body. She grinned at me, "Hope you don't mind. I thought I'd see what it was like to sleep in something like this. I don't have anything even close."

I looked at her lovely form. "You should. It looks really nice on you."

She blushed. "Thanks, but I think I'll hold out till things are right." She looked at me searchingly. "How are you today? You had a pretty rough night last night. I'm sorry I put you through that."

"Don't be. I needed that. Those emotions have been bottled up too long, and it was good to let them out."

She sat cross-legged on the bed facing me, and I got a better glimpse between her legs. "You really should let Amy know you're alright, you know. She shouldn't have to suffer through wondering if you're ok."

My vision blurred, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got to stay away from her for her own good! Can't you see that? All I can do is hurt her! She's better off if I just disappear from the face of the earth!"

"Actually, no, I can't see that. In all the years you were married to her, was there ever, even the slightest indication she didn't love and accept you? Even after the changes you went through?"

"No," I whispered.

"And does she blame you for what happened at the party, and with that other guy?"

In a tiny voice I answered, "She says no, but she must! She must be disgusted with me. How can she not?"

"First, because she loves you. Second because she put you in both of those situations. And third, because rape is not the victims fault! Did you do anything to entice them? Did you ask for it?"

"I don't know. I must have. How else could it have happened twice? It must be me!" I buried my head in the pillow.

Erin turned me over and shook me. "Get this through your head! It. Was. Not. Your. Fault!!! Now get on that phone and call your wife!"

I shook my head and tried to shrink into myself. Erin stomped over to my purse and brought it back, fishing my cell phone out of it and thrusting it at me. "Call!"

I took a couple deep breaths, and then took the phone in trembling hands. I stumbled over keying in the number, and had to try a couple times before it was right. I pressed the talk button and shivered as I waited for it to ring. After four rings, the answering machine picked up, and I breathed a sigh. Maybe I could manage to leave a message. I don't think I could talk to Amy right now.

Beep. "Um, Amy? This is Jamie. I just called to tell you I'm ok. And I'm sorry." I pressed the disconnect button and the phone slipped from my fumbling fingers. I buried my face in my shaking hands. "Oh, God. That was awful!"

Erin said, "You're right. But it's a step. And you have to find it in you to take the next step, and the next, until you're back where you're supposed to be. If you can't love yourself, if you can't trust yourself, love Amy. Trust her." Erin glanced at her watch. "I've got to get to work. Are you going to be OK?"

I nodded my head.

Erin found the bathroom, and soon I heard the shower running. I dragged myself to the kitchen and got the coffee going. Soon, Erin came out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry, unconcernedly appearing nude in front of me. She started putting on the clothes she had removed last night, and was soon dressed.

"Coffee?"

"No thanks. I don't drink it. Besides, I have to get home and change for work. Bye, Jamie. Take care of yourself. Find your way home."

I grabbed her in a bear hug, which she returned, then had to pry me off her to get out the door. "Bye," I whispered to the closed door.

After a couple mugs of coffee, I managed to fix some dry toast, and choke it down, then looked at the time and realized I had a flight to catch.

I grabbed my suitcase and found some not too outrageous clothes to take along. I was coming to realize my choice of clothing when I left home was somewhat shortsighted. I showered, dried my hair and combed out the tangles, put on light makeup, then about the most comfortable clothing I had, skintight jeans, peasant blouse, knee high sheer stockings, and four-inch heels.

As I drove to the airport, and during the flight to Colorado, my mind whirled with all of the unresolved questions that my conversation with Erin had stirred up again. Was I right to leave Amy? Was it fair to her? Was it fair to me? Was any of this my fault? What should I do? By the time we landed, I was no nearer answers than when I left.

After a taxi ride to the motel and checking in, I left my bag in my room and walked up the street to see where the clinic was. It was an easy walk. I should have no problem carrying my small suitcase up there tomorrow.

I wasn't to eat tonight based on the instructions I'd received, so I retired to my room and watched some mindless TV. Mostly it was background noise to the battle raging in my head. The same questions kept plaguing me. But no good answers would emerge. By the time I finally drifted to sleep, about the only thing I had decided was I couldn't decide. So, I was going to have to stay away from Amy, live the life I had now, until I could resolve these feelings. With that non-resolution, the turmoil in my mind faded, and I slept.

*****

Amy dragged in the door after surviving another day at work. She saw herself in the front hall mirror. God, how did she keep from scaring her patients away? Her cheeks were hollow, and there were dark circles under her eyes even her makeup wouldn't hide. She hadn't slept well in almost two weeks, since the night James had left. She had dropped ten pounds, and her energy level was down. Way down.

She dragged into the kitchen thinking she should eat at least a bite. The answering machine was blinking cheerfully, and Amy hopelessly punched the button and headed toward the fridge.

Beep. "Um, Amy? This is Jamie. I just called to tell you I'm ok. And I'm sorry."

Amy was back at the machine before the last word, praying there would be more. All she heard was another beep. She listlessly picked up the phone and dialed the number she had called nearly every day since James disappeared.

She heard Paul answer, and broke down in tears, blubbering into the phone, "Oh, Paul, he called. James called!" and broke down into helpless sobbing.

"I'll be right there, Amy. Hang in there!" and the phone went dead.

Fifteen minutes later, Amy had pulled herself together somewhat by the time the doorbell rang. She opened the door, and the sight of Paul set her off into a torrent of tears again. Paul all but carried her to the kitchen and replayed the message, trying to hear over Amy's sobbing.

"Hey, come on, Amy. At least we know she's all right. Look on the bright side."

"But we still don't know where he is. Oh, Paul, what am I going to do? This is killing me." She collapsed against him, and he gently carried her to the bed as he had many times the last couple weeks. He pulled the covers back, laid her gently on the sheets, slipped her shoes off, and spread the blanket up to keep her warm.

He sadly walked to the door, and switched off the light. He was about to leave when he heard a whispered "Don't go." He turned to look back, and Amy managed a stronger "Don't go, please. Not tonight."

Paul shut the door as he moved back to the bed, and lay on top of the spread, holding Amy tightly against him as she cried herself to sleep.

Amy woke hours later, and reveled in the comfort of the strong arms wrapped around her. She turned her head, and searched with her lips till they found other lips bracketed by scratchy beard stubble. She came to enough to realize this couldn't be James. He almost never had stubble like that. At this point, she didn't care. She needed the physical sensations of love. The passion of her kiss mounted, and slowly the lips started to kiss back. When she broke the kiss, she heard a sleepily mumbled "Jamie?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Oh, thank god." And the stubbled face sought hers and kissed deeply.

Amy melted to the strong chest, and started stroking with her hands anywhere they would reach. She found where the shirt had pulled loose from the waistband of the pants, and found warm hairy flesh, sliding her hand through the hair, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

Strong male hands began a quest to find Amy too. And as they slid into the blouse Amy still wore, her nimble fingers were frantically unbuttoning his shirt. He tried to do the same for her blouse, but the buttons were too fine, and he made little progress. Amy finally gave up stroking the broad chest she had uncovered to push his hands aside and attack the buttons herself. She made short work of them, and almost ripped the blouse off herself.

The questing male fingers were back, feeling the smooth flesh of Amy's flat tummy, then sliding up and under her bra to find her points of pleasure standing erect. Amy gasped at the contact, and started tearing at the fastenings of Paul's pants. Sometime during the struggle, Paul finally realized this was not really Jamie, but by now was so frenzied that he couldn't stop.

Mere minutes later, they were both naked, and trying to feel the other everywhere at once. Their breathing was growing ragged, and sweat beaded their bodies. Paul rolled on top of Amy, and moved his manhood so it poised over Amy's waiting slit. The tip brushed her moist folds, torturing them both with sensation.

Paul froze. "Amy? Are you sure? I won’t do this to James if you're not certain."

Amy paused, her hands resting on Paul's slim hips. Was this right? Yes and no. No, because it violated her marriage vow. Yes, because they were here, now, and James was not. And she needed a loving touch just to survive tomorrow. Amy's heart was beating like a drum as she agonized over the decision. Then her hands tightened on Paul, and pulled him down with all her strength while driving her hips forward, impaling herself on Paul's cock. She screamed, and shook with a massive climax, then settled into the age-old rhythm as led by Paul. It wasn't two minutes later when she arched her back and succumbed to another blinding orgasm. Paul maintained his stroke as she froze, and he waited patiently for her to rejoin the dance. His breathing was labored by now, and sweat dripped into his eyes. He knew he couldn't last long, but he forced himself to wait for Amy. When they were once more in step, he knew the end was here, and plunged as deeply as possible, then shuddered and pulsed life into her depths. The feeling of the sperm hot inside her drove Amy over the edge yet again, and she groaned in triumph. They drifted into sleep wrapped safe and warm in each other’s arms.

Tuesday, Dec. 1

Amy sensed the light from the morning sun, and the strength and warmth of the man wrapped around her. Memories of last night seeped back, and she was amazed that she could betray James as she had. But she also couldn't forget the incredible pleasure she had felt in this time where pleasant things were not to be found.

'Yes, it was incredible, but it is not Paul that I love, it's James' she realized. 'I needed this to get through this nightmare, but it can never happen again.' She carefully moved away from Paul and moved slowly into the bathroom.

Paul became aware of the chill as the soft warm body moved away, and he mourned its loss. The memory of last night was clear and joyful in him as he roused further. He had finally made love to Jamie. No, that's not right. That was not the woman he loved last night, just her double, even if this was the original. Amy was a wonderful woman, but it was the quirks and flaws as well as the beauty that made Jamie the one he loved. And it was not fair to Amy to use her as a substitute for the one he wanted to make love to. He would have to be more careful, and avoid a repeat of last night.

As he thought this, a naked Amy came from the bathroom, stretching her arms above her to work out the stiffness of the night. He almost fell back into the trap; so incredible was the sight of Jamie, stretching enticingly almost within his reach.

Amy picked a robe up off the chair and wrapped it around her. "Thank-you Paul, for last night. It was beautiful, and it was what I needed at the time. But please, help me make sure it never happens again."

Paul could only nod as the words stuck in his throat, and then he watched his vision of Jamie walk to the kitchen to start coffee.

*****

The phone jangled in the half-light before dawn, rousing me from a restless sleep. I remembered I had to check into the clinic early this morning, so I carefully removed the gaff and showered. As I washed my genitals, I was surprised at the sensations the stroking aroused. It had been so long since I had felt that, I closed my eyes and continued to stroke. Did I detect a little swelling of my cock? Or was it just wishful thinking. I shook myself out of the reverie and finished washing. After drying off, I donned a similar outfit to yesterday, adding a sweater for warmth, and packed everything else.

Emerging into the cold early morning, I realized that weather here is nothing like the warm desert where I live. My sweater did nothing to shut out the cold, and I shivered the whole way to the clinic. It was slightly warmer when I got through the doors into the admitting area, but I continued to shiver.

We got the paperwork done, and I was led to an office where a doctor waited.

"Good morning, Ms Hastings. I'm Dr. Wells, and I need to ask you a few questions before we proceed. The main purpose of this procedure is to aid pre-operative transsexuals in succeeding in their Real Life Test, by removing the anxiety of the discovery of their male genitalia. As it is a temporary, or reversible, procedure, the Benjamin Standards of Care don't really restrict it. However, I like to understand my patient's state of mind before I agree to do this surgery. Tell me about yourself."

I thought for a moment how to phrase my response. "I have been under a psychologists care for some time now about my gender issues, and have been under a doctor's care for hormone therapy, and the cosmetic procedures I have received so far. I have dressed and worked as a female full time for the last several months, and have recently started a new job that makes the risk of discovery great enough that I wish to undertake this procedure. I have not satisfied the one-year requirement, so reassignment surgery is not an option, nor am I totally convinced that it will be right for me when I do pass that anniversary. I hope you approve this, as I am under a lot of stress in my current job because of fear of being 'read'."

"Well, it is obvious from your appearance, and your commitment to live as a female full time that you are serious about your transition, even if the end result is undecided. Do you have any documentation from your doctors?"

"No, I was not aware I would need it for this procedure."

"Technically, I don’t require it, however, I would have preferred to see it. But you're correct; we do not state that as a requirement. I see no reason why we cannot proceed. Just to be clear, you wish this procedure to be reversible in the future. Is that correct?"

"Why, are there considerations here that might affect that outcome?"

"Um, possibly. Under certain circumstances, we are allowed to proceed with full SRS earlier than suggested by the SOC." My heart was suddenly beating quite rapidly. "We have a psychologist, Dr. Martin, here on staff. If that is desirable on your part, and our psychologist concurs, we could potentially proceed with the full surgery immediately."

"Oh!" My mind was in a whirl again. There was a certain appeal to just doing it. At least the quandary would be over. There would be no need to worry in the future which way to go. I felt myself weakening.

"Ms. Hastings, I can see you're seriously considering this. Why don't we set you up with Dr. Martin and you can work it out between you. OK?"

"Um, ok." At least that would let me have a chance to think more, to talk it out with the shrink, maybe make a rational decision. There was probably no way this Dr. Martin would approve me, anyway.

An hour later, I was sitting in another office waiting for the doctor, trying to make sense of this. I felt I was treading a tightrope here. On the one hand, I had to be careful in what I said. I fully expected if I told this shrink what really happened, they would likely refuse to do either full SRS or the temporary procedure. And I needed at least one of them. On the other hand, even to that end I was not willing to fabricate outright lies. The incomplete truths I had told Dr. Well seemed the best path. There were no lies in that, other than of omission.

Dr. Martin came in and greeted me. He was a bear of a man. Big, well muscled, with a full bushy beard. His suit seemed to bulge, and looked about to burst open, but not because the doctor was fat. Just very large. He had a soft voice that soothed me. I relaxed immediately.

We must have talked for almost two hours. The story I told was all truth, but as earlier with Dr. Wells, left out many of the reasons things were as they were. Finally, Dr. Martin sat back in his chair and regarded me critically.

I was getting a little nervous as he studied me. Finally I had to break the silence. "Um, doctor. I, um, hope that you will at least approve the procedure to disguise my genitals. I would hate to have made the trip all the way up here for nothing."

He paused a few more moments in silence, then nodded his head decisively, and reached into one of his desk drawers to withdraw a form. He scanned down it, and filled in several blanks, finally signing the bottom with a flourish.

"This certifies my approval of you as a patient. Good luck. I hope all goes smoothly for you."

"Um, thank-you, Dr. Martin." He stood and shook my hand, then ushered me out of the room, leading me to a nurse's station where they would prep me for the surgery.

I handed the form from Dr. Martin to the nurse who directed me to a single room with a bed and attached bath. That would be my room after surgery. They told me to take off all my clothes and hang them in the tiny closet, and put on the gown I would find there. Someone would come for me shortly. As I waited, I finally realized that I was glad I wasn't getting full SRS now. In fact, I figured I would probably never want it. At least not while there was any chance of becoming James again!

I was wheeled to an operating room in a wheel chair, and helped up onto the table, then covered with a thin blanket that did little to ward off the chill. Soon a doctor entered and hooked an IV into my arm. He explained that this was a saline drip to help keep my body hydrated, and they would use it to administer and regulate the anesthetic during surgery. I was getting a little nervous. This seemed to be an awfully elaborate setup for the supposedly simple procedure I had come for.

The doctor started to inject the anesthetic into the IV, and explained I would be out within a minute or so.

"Wait, doctor. What procedure are they doing here? I am afraid you might be setting up for the wrong one. I was supposed to have a simple procedure to mask my penis."

"That I don't know. You'll have to ask Dr. Wells."

Just then, the door opened. I was starting to feel drowsy when Dr. Wells spoke, "Ah, Ms. Hastings. I see you have opted for the full surgery. Good. We will begin in just a few moments"

Through the fog in my brain I forced out "Wait, Dr. Wells. I don't want full surgery, just the reversible procedure!"

The room was fading.

I fought my way back to consciousness, and felt a dull ache in my groin. I tried to remember what had happened. Suddenly it came rushing back, and I realized with horror it might be over. It might be too late! I tried to move my hands down to my crotch, but they wouldn't work right. I struggled to wake more, but the anesthetic was slow to release me. I sagged back exhausted, and waited for the cotton in my head to clear. Finally I was able to move, and tried to find a way to move my hands down, but all they encountered was bandages. Tears started leaking from my eyes, and I slipped again into darkness.

"Well, let's take a look at you." I jolted awake at Dr. Wells' cheerful voice. "Everything went just fine, Ms Hastings. I expect a very good result. Let me just peek under these bandages and see how you are doing."

I was almost in tears again. "Please doctor. Which procedure did you perform? Please tell me you didn't do anything permanent!"

"Calm down Ms. Hastings. I read Dr. Martin's report. Both he and I thought SRS was the right path for you and that performing it now rather than later would relieve you of a great deal of anxiety." I was terrified now. "However, I understood your message very clearly in the OR. We did as you requested. I think you are making a mistake, and that you will be back here for the full surgery soon. And I fear you will suffer mental discomfort until that time."

I sagged back in relief as the doctor examined the area under the bandages, and then had an orderly come in and replace them with fresh. "Yes, everything looks good, Ms. Hastings. Assuming no complications, you should be released tomorrow morning, and now no one should suspect your physical gender without actually probing the area. Rest well tonight and I will see you in the morning to release you."

I cycled from floating in a drug-induced numbness with a dull ache in my groin to being clear-headed, but with some definite pain. All in all, it wasn't a restful time, and I was glad when the ache/pain eased enough that I could sleep.

Wednesday, Dec. 2

"Well, Ms Hastings, let's have a look." I was again jolted out of sleep by Dr. Wells. Damn! That was a very irritating habit he had.

He peeled the bandages off and viewed the area closely. I had a quick but not too clear glimpse of the area, and became worried again that I was now really female. The peek I had gotten sure looked like a woman.

As the orderly replaced my bandage, the doctor was giving me final instructions. Basically I should keep it dry, carefully remove the bandage to pee, and then reapply it. I could remove it completely tomorrow evening. He also told me any time I wanted to either finish the job, or reverse the temporary procedure to come back and see him. He then told me I could go as soon as I dressed. I bid him goodbye, wishing I was away from here already.

I called a cab from my room, and then dressed. An orderly wheeled me out to the lobby with my suitcase in my lap, and a few minutes later the cab arrived. As I watched the clinic recede behind me, I felt an unreasonable relief.

The flight home was uneventful, if a little uncomfortable. The drive back to the apartment was difficult because I was so tired. At home, I ate some veggies from the fridge and fell into bed.

Thursday, Dec. 3

I had to pee pretty bad when I woke, and ignored the discomfort in my crotch as I made my way into the bathroom. Sitting, I carefully peeled the bandage off, and took a closer look at my new configuration. It was still red and there was some swelling, but it had a distinct resemblance to a real pussy. Not that it would stand close examination, but anything I expected to do it should be ok.

I was reminded by my bladder what I was there for, so I got back to business. I tried to watch as I loosened the muscles that withheld the flow, and watched the pee start to dribble, and then gush out. It was not a coherent stream like I was used to. The folds of flesh were interfering, so I had a little mess to clean up down there when I finished. But, for now, it would do. I carefully dried off and reapplied the bandage, then went to scrounge some breakfast.

I dozed most of the day, snacking lightly when my tummy said it was time, and repeating the potty business a couple more times. That evening, I finally took the bandages off for good. I looked closely at my new arrangement. I felt around, and at first touch, it felt just about like Amy did down there. I probed carefully, wincing a few times as I found tender spots. I was relieved that I found no vaginal canal under the folds. I'd still held the irrational fear that Dr. Wells had gone all the way. I tried on panties, then tight jeans, then tight skirts, and admired the girlish configuration that was visible with no need for the gaff.

One thing this did was make me feel more feminine, and I was afraid that might shift the balance of my internal struggle.

With all the napping during the day, when I decided to bed down for the night, it took quite awhile to drift off.

Friday, Dec. 4

The only thing of note Friday was I got out of the apartment long enough to get my blood drawn for Dr. Myers. The rest of the day I rested, and cruised the internet. I felt like I had a tug of war going on inside. Part of me wished I had let Dr. Wells do the whole thing. It would resolve so much, and give me a measure of peace. That part also pointed out how female I looked now, and how nice it would be if that were real. A smaller, but vehemently vocal part insisted I should set course for manhood. It emphasized the tiny signs of progress from when Erin had triggered a response from my limp dick, and the response I myself had aroused in the shower in Colorado.

I was afraid I was getting close to taking the easy way out.

That evening I called Bill at the club, and asked if I still had a job. He asked when I could come back, and I told him Monday. He said yeah, the job was still mine, and I was to work Monday through Saturday of this coming week. I groaned at the long week, but assured him I would be there.

My mental wrangling kept me on edge, and made me feel exhausted.

Around seven there was a knock on the door, and I found Erin waiting there. I invited her in, and she gave me a huge hug.

"How are you, girl? How did it go?"

"Well, except that they scheduled me for full SRS, it went great!"

"No!" she covered her mouth in shock, looking at my crotch. "It's done? It's real? Oh my god, you lucky girl! This is great!" She hugged me and danced me around. Then she stopped and held me at arms length. "How do you feel about that?"

"They didn't really do it, but it was close!" So I told her the whole story. She was kind of disappointed it didn't really happen, but she tried to understand. From her point of view, that was the ultimate, almost the only, goal.

She blushed, "Um, could I, maybe, like, take a look?" She glanced up at my face. "Or not, if it would make you uncomfortable."

I smiled at her a little nervously. "Ok. Come on in the bedroom."

I turned on all the lights in the room, then stripped off my jeans and panties and sat on the edge of the bed. She knelt between my legs, and I couldn’t help being a little aroused having this attractive girl kneeling there. If I had been a man in this situation, I would have been in heaven.

She peered closely, then an outstretched finger drifted toward my tailored groin. Just before it touched, she stopped, seeming to realize what she was doing, and looked up at me, blushing. I just gave a little nod, and her finger finished the trip. It touched lightly, then when I didn't jerk away, became a little bolder in its exploration. When she brushed over where a woman's clit would be, a jolt of pleasure coursed up my body and escaped as a moan. Erin started back, looking at my face, then returned to her examination, now deliberately stroking the sensitive spot she had found. My moan was repeated, my eyes drifted shut, and I leaned back on my elbows on the bed. I felt warm breath on my exposed groin, and then the texture of the touch changed, more moist, slightly rough. I peeked down and saw Erin's tongue lightly stroking the spot she had found, and my excitement skyrocketed. Getting a little bolder when I didn't stop her, she probed lightly with her tongue, and swabbed the surrounding area. My breathing was getting heavier, and my hips rocked slightly in time to the rhythm Erin had set. The heat built in the pit of my tummy, and liquefied my insides. I reached one hand to tweak and pinch my nipple, and the heat mounted. Erin increased the urgency of her assault, and the heat turned to fire, then exploded through my body, making me collapse back on the bed. Erin giggled, and I managed to raise my head enough to see the big grin on her face.

"Well, it just shows that with the right partner, sex is still an option for you!"

I nodded. "Any ideas where I might find a right partner?"

She pursed her lips in mock concentration, and then nodded eagerly. "Yup! Me!"

"Come here, you!"

She crawled up beside me and we cuddled for a while. I whispered in her ear, "Stay the night?"

Her response was to bring her lips to mine and kiss me passionately, while her hand slipped up under my top, then my bra, and found a hard little nubbin to play with.

I stood and stripped off the top and bra, turned down the bed, forcing her off, then attacked her clothes till she was as naked as I. Once in bed, our hands roamed over each other, exploring the sensitive spots, and the ticklish ones. The ones that aroused, and the ones that didn't. I paused awhile, exploring her shrunken genitals. "Do you still get pleasure from these?" I asked.

"Yes, but less than I used to." I kissed her lips, then cheeks, eyes, chin, throat, chest, breasts. I had to stop there awhile and lavish attention on her lovely mounds. Her breathing was heavy before I decided to move southward. I delved into her cute tummy button, and nipped her flat belly, then tugged her pubic hair with my teeth. Finally I found the little guy hiding in the bush, and sucked it into my mouth. It didn’t stiffen like the other cocks I had pleasured, but Erin's breathing told me my effort wasn't wasted. One hand snaked upward to glom onto one of her boobs, and twist and stroke the nipple. Erin groaned between ragged breaths, and she rocked her hips in time with my sucking. Another minute, and her back arched, and she shuddered. A small amount of fluid leaked from the tip, tasting strange on my tongue. Different than the semen I had tasted. Different, not bad.

Erin collapsed back onto the bed, and went limp. I snuggled up to her, and gently stroked her body that was lightly coated with sweat. "Mmmm. That was nice!"

I nipped the side of her breast, and said "Any time, sweet lady."

We cuddled until we both drifted off.

Saturday, Dec. 5

I awoke to the smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee. As I stretched, Erin appeared in the bedroom door wearing one of my baby dolls and said, "Up you get, lazybones. Breakfast is about ready."

I purred, "I'd rather eat you!"

Erin disappeared instantly, and I wondered if I had offended her, but moments later she appeared at a full run, and dove onto the bed, nearly bouncing me out. Before I even knew she had moved, I felt her tongue on that magic spot in my groin, and saw her tiny dick dangling above my mouth. Well, if she's going to put it there, I might as well take advantage, right? I went to work on the shriveled organ, and the small sack adjacent. The testes within were tiny, the result of continued hormones. That might be me one of these days, I thought. Then I turned my full attention to pleasing Erin, and soon we each glimpsed heaven.

After a little rest, occupied by mutual stroking and kissing, Erin popped out of bed and dragged me after her. "Here!" she handed me the red baby doll. "Scoot into the bathroom, then put this on. Breakfast will be ready when you get out, so be quick!"

I scooted, and she was right. There was a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon, toast, and a mug of coffee at the table when I emerged. She joined me with a similar plate, and a big glass of juice. I actually felt like eating this morning, the first time in a long time. I couldn't eat all Erin had fixed though. It was way too much.

"I have to do some things at home today, so I have to leave soon. Can I come back later?"

I paused to think, just to yank her chain. "Well, maybe." I scratched my chin thoughtfully. "But only if you spend the night again." She sprang toward me, and somehow was sitting in my lap, kissing me deeply. When we broke, I said, "I take it that's a yes?" She nodded wildly, and hugged me.

Erin left, and I cleaned up from breakfast, and then changed into walking clothes. I figured if I could handle the bedroom Olympics, I ought to be able to walk. I only made it one lap around the park. I hadn't gotten any exercise this last week, and it was obvious in my exhaustion.

I showered, and cleaned up the apartment. One thing about this place, it took a lot less effort to clean up then the house had. Thoughts of the house reminded me of Amy, and that led to the thought that I had not only been willingly unfaithful to her again, but I was planning to be again tonight. That left a gaping hole in me somewhere, but I couldn't worry about that right now. I shoved that thought back into the dark recesses of my mind, and got on about the day.

I made a list, and ran off to the grocery store. I made a side trip first to a department store where I picked up another set of sheets, some towels, a bathroom scale, some wine glasses, and a few items I thought would make the apartment look homier. As an afterthought, I visited the sewing notions area and picked up a tape measure. At the market, I picked up some essentials, and then browsed, looking for something a little special I could fix for Erin tonight. I picked up a few bottles of wine as well.

When I finally got home it was after five, and Erin climbed out of her car when she saw me. She helped take my purchases into the apartment, and then cornered me in the kitchen to give me a big kiss.

"I'm glad you’re here."

That brought on another kiss, and a giggle.

I stuck the wine in a mixing bowl filled with ice to chill, and set about making chicken stir-fry, with wild rice to serve it over. Erin watched as I threw dinner together, staying out of my way when she saw I had things under control. She set the table, and when I indicated the food was ready, poured us each a glass of the chilled white wine.

I thought dinner turned out pretty good, and Erin seemed to enjoy it. But I think it was dessert we enjoyed most. That was served in the bedroom, and left us both sweaty and breathless. After we had recovered our breath, Erin dragged me into the bathroom, and we showered together. With the action in the shower, we would have emerged just as sweaty if the water hadn't sluiced it off as it formed.

We were both worn out by now, so we crawled in bed naked, and held each other while we slipped into dreamland.

Sunday, Dec. 6

I woke slowly; relishing the warm body snuggled against me. I had no disorientation this time. I knew before I roused that it was Erin. This was the best night's sleep I'd had, I think since that fateful date with Jerry so long ago.

Erin must have been awake already, because when she sensed my wakefulness, she flipped over and invaded my mouth with her tongue.

"Morning" I said breathlessly when our lips parted. But before the word was completely out of my mouth, she was on the move. Before I could get out of bed and to the bathroom, she was already out, and into the kitchen. I did the necessary, and slipped into a gauzy robe. Padding barefoot to the kitchen, I stopped at the sight I found. Erin was bustling around the kitchen stark naked, throwing breakfast together. I watched for a while, enjoying the energy, not to mention the view. She would glance over at me occasionally with a big grin on her face.

After we ate the light breakfast she'd made, we cleaned up, and she was off to the shower. I followed more slowly, and by the time I got there, she was drying off and urging me into the shower. I showered quickly. Well, it was a pretty quick for me, but long compared to Erin. I dried and hustled to the bedroom. Erin had a sport bag on the bed and was wearing an outfit I hadn't seen before. She must have come prepared.

"Well, don't just stand there, get ready!"

"Ready for what?"

"You'll see, just hurry!"

"Ok, but what do I wear?"

Erin invaded my closet on a mission. She exclaimed over the universally sexy clothes that were all she found. She finally came out with my one "conservative" outfit, the hunter green slacks and sweater, with the pale green blouse.

"I cannot believe your clothing selection. It looks like a hooker lives here." She stopped with a shocked expression, belatedly remembering that technically I was a prostitute, albeit only a single time. She waited for a reaction, and she was so cute in her shock that I forgot to take it personally.

"Nope, just a stripper!" I quipped back.

She giggled nervously, then broke into a grin and gave me a quick hug. "Here, wear this. It's pretty."

I dressed. Of course, the 'conservative look' was somewhat spoiled by the black five inch FMPs. But my shoe selection pretty much all fit in the overly sexy category. No conservative selections at all there.

She hustled me out the door, into her car, and tore out of the parking lot. Just before nine she pulled into a parking space of a small church, and urged me out. I looked bemusedly at the building. It had been a long time since I had been in one of these. Erin grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside, taking us to seats several rows back from the front. Erin's boundless energy seemed subdued in this environment, so I focused on what was happening, and listened to what was said.

Church let out at ten, and I followed Erin outdoors. A lot of people were standing around talking, and Erin seemed to know them all. She took me around and introduced me to seemingly dozens of people. And they all seemed fond of Erin. Who wouldn't, she was a real sweetheart. But too many people would not tolerate her if they knew what she was going through. I wondered if any of these people knew, and if they would treat her differently if they did.

Back at the apartment, I said quietly, "Erin, we need to talk."

She suddenly had an anxious look on her face. I saw the fear of rejection in her eyes, and mused that she had probably seen too much of that. I kissed her gently, and said, "It's ok, honey. I just need to understand." I guided her to the sofa and sat close with my arm around her.

"Why, Erin. Why are you here?"

"Don't you want me here?" she said in a small voice.

"Yes, I do. I like having you here very much, but I need to understand why. Is this that you think you are saving me from hurting myself?"

Her head jerked up. "No! There are lots of reasons, but that is not one of them. I need someone right now, and you have the love to share at the moment. You need someone too, and I have some love I can share. And someone has to show you that you deserve love, and you deserve Amy. And I think I can do that. Plus, you're a nice person, and you're fun to be around, and you're great in bed. And I can’t find many people willing to be in bed with me right now."

"Ok, ok!" I grinned. Then my expression turned serious. "You're a nice person, Erin. I seem to end up hurting the nice people around me. You would do well to stay away from me."

"Stop! You cut that out right now! You know that's not true. It's just that you've been badly injured emotionally, and you need time to heal. I want to be here to help. Please?"

I looked into her eyes, and relented. "You have to know, too. I still love Amy more than anything, and if I ever again feel worthy of her, and if she'll have me, that's where I'll be."

"I know. That's where you belong. And I won't stand in your way. I wasn't looking for anything long term when I went into this. But I must admit, I think it will hurt more than just a little when you leave me." She took a deep breath, "I think I'm falling for you, just a little."

"Yeah, me too." I looked into her eyes, and kissed her lightly. "Ok, next question. Why church? Or why take me there, maybe."

Erin thought for a minute. "After all the pain and turmoil I've gone through to this point, I am trying to make sense of it. To find the purpose. And God is the best source of answers I've found so far. And it's that particular church because they're not zealots, and they're tolerant of people with differences. And I wanted you to go because you need answers too, and I was offering you a possible source of those answers. If it doesn't work for you like it has for me, there's still no harm."

A tear started trickling down my cheek. "I thanked heaven every day for Amy when I was with her. Then I met Paul, and he is one of the best people on earth too, and helped me so much. Now you. What have I ever done to deserve such people in my life?" I hugged her tightly.

"So, you still want me around?"

"You bet! Anyone that can put up with me is worth her weight in gold!"

She swatted my arm, "You stop putting yourself down right this moment!" then crushed me to her and kissed me fervently. "Um, if I'm going to stay again tonight, it would be easier if I brought my clothes for work tomorrow instead of having to get back to my place in the morning."

"Well, what are you sitting there for, let's go!"

Erin was already moving, tugging me along behind her. She drove us to an apartment complex not far away. She led me to her apartment and unlocked the door, leading me inside. "Jackie, you home?"

A rather plain girl emerged from a bedroom wearing a terrycloth robe and toweling her damp hair.

"Jackie, this is Jamie. I told you about meeting her the other day?"

"Sure! Hi, Jamie!" She squeezed my hand, and then returned to drying her hair. I looked at her a bit more closely.

Erin saw the look. "Yes, Jamie, Jackie is like us. She is pre-op also. We met a couple years ago at Mikaela's, just when we were both starting on this path. We both were having problems where we were living, and ended up rooming together." Turning to Jackie, Erin said "We just stopped by to pick up some clothes for work tomorrow, so I don’t have to come back here in the morning."

Jackie grinned, "Oh, ho! So that's the way it is, huh?" Erin just grinned back. Then she looked at me. "Really? You were born a guy? It's hard to believe. I wish I could pass that well."

Erin giggled. "And get this, she works as a stripper over at the Lariat Club!"

Jackie's eyes grew round. "Really? That's not a TG place. How do you get away with it?"

Erin glanced at my crotch. "She hides it pretty well." Then she pulled me into another bedroom where she started collecting what she would need.

"Why not bring enough for a few nights. Then we have the option of extending your lease." I wiggled my eyebrows lasciviously.

Erin laughed at the corny expression. "Ok." She packed a bag with what she thought she might need, and I followed her back into the living room. Jackie emerged from the other room wearing a nice skirt and blouse that accented her figure, wearing tasteful makeup. I looked at her again, and thought how feminine she looked now. Before, if you knew, you could just see the male characteristics in her face. Now, even knowing, I couldn't tell.

"You look very nice, Jackie," I complemented.

"Thanks."

Erin bustled me out the door, and we were soon back at my place. As soon as we got in the door, she jumped me, and dragged me to bed. As we rested after, she asked, "Can I come watch you dance?"

I looked surprised. "Sure, if you want. But someone who looks as good as you will have to fight those horny guys off with a stick. You got any guy friends that could come with you for protection?"

"I am a guy, remember?"

I looked in her eyes and said quietly but emphatically, "No, you're not." That earned me a big hug, but I don’t know why I got a treat for telling the truth.

"Yeah, I can ask one of my friends from Mikaela's. Maybe several will come. Lots of them like to see transsexuals make it good in the real world. Can't get much more real than what you do."

"Erin, that's twice today you've referred to me as TS. I'm really not, you know."

Erin just smiled at me.

"Well, I'm not!" But it bothered me. Could she tell something I was missing?

Monday, Dec. 7

The week settled into a comfortable routine. Erin stayed every night, and most of those we enjoyed more than just closeness. She cooked breakfast, and then went off to work. I generally wasn't hungry for lunch, skipping it, or eating a yogurt. I had dinner ready when she got home, and we ate together before I headed to work.

Work was exhausting, but exciting. I quickly switched to the more revealing G-string Misti had first shown me, since the one I'd been using was extremely uncomfortable without the protection of the gaff. I wasn't tiring yet of teasing the guys in the audience with my sexy body modeled on Amy's. I was just thankful my face and hair left no doubt that I was emphatically not Amy. I could just imagine what would happen to her career if a rumor got out she was stripping in the evenings. I was getting better at putting routines together. I was also surprised at my increased confidence due to my modification last week. I spent less time practicing in the back room, and more time hustling drinks out front. That increased the tips, and the propositions. It was a rare evening that at least a couple of guys didn't try to purchase a little solace in my arms (or wherever). Most were easy to put off, occasionally they weren't.

Erin managed to find male friends to escort her both Monday and Tuesday to watch me dance. She was up there whistling and cheering at me right along with all the guys. It was a hoot having her there. I think all the guys enjoyed her being there too.

Having Erin in my life was doing wonders for my peace of mind. She was a booster, a lover, a friend, and a huge patch of sunshine in what had become a bleak world. As I became more at peace with myself I came to realize what it was I had thrown away with Amy. And I knew then what I had to do. So I was more than enthusiastic when Wednesday rolled around and it was time to visit Dr. Myers.

Wednesday, Dec. 9

I was feeling good, as I got ready to see the doctor. I had concluded that if at all possible, I needed to be James again. Losing Paul and Erin would hurt, if it came to that, but losing Amy would kill me in spirit if not in body. I was planning to go back to being male, but I looked female right now, and I was feeling better about that as well, and about myself. I made my face up carefully, and reveled in the miniskirt and cropped top I wore. The matching deep red lipstick and nail polish added flair.

I waited for Dr. Myers in his office. When he bustled in, I preempted his verbal barrage by getting started before he raised his eyes from the chart.

"Dr. Myers. I've come to a decision. If there is any way it can possibly happen, I plan to transition back to male. How do we approach that goal?"

He looked at me for a moment, like he was shocked someone could beat him to the punch. "Alrighty then. The chart is your friend this week. Lab results show a significant drop in estrogen levels, and a small but encouraging increase in free testosterone. It looks like the function of the testes is not completely destroyed. Only time will tell what, if any, damage has been done. The higher T level implies the anti-androgen has been significantly flushed from your system, lowering the possibility of further damage. I still don't think hormone therapy is a wise choice at this point. That is a last resort if we should find you can't produce enough on your own. So, I think we're still in wait and see mode, but if the trend continues, then I think the outlook is favorable. See me again in two weeks, and don't forget the blood draw beforehand." With that he swirled out of the office as if he was determined to wrest back the advantage.

That night, the dance routines came off pretty well, judging by the tips, but there was one guy in the audience that didn't seem to want to take no for an answer. I finally managed to get away from him, but it was a pain to be hassled like that.

Thursday, Dec. 10

Erin didn't make it to watch me again Thursday, but I knew she was home waiting for me, and that made the evening better, even if it seemed longer. The same guy from the prior night was there, and when I tried to explain I wasn't a hooker, and I wouldn't go with him no matter how much he offered, he got a little abusive, but the bouncer showed up, he calmed down, and I slipped away backstage. I didn't spend any more time with the customers that night, and asked the bouncer to walk me to my car when I left.

The little bit of heaven that is Erin made me forget about my spot of trouble. When I got home she was posed provocatively on the bed in one of the sheer baby dolls. Things only got better from there.

Friday, Dec. 11

The night at the club seemed fantastic, as the asshole that bugged me the last two nights never showed. I was flying high, and my dancing showed it. I circulated with the guys out front, and flirted outrageously, but no one got obnoxious. I did pretty well with tips both from the dancing, and from the guys in front. As good as the night went, I was glad when it was over. Erin was waiting at home, and I only had one more night to work before I got a night or two off. I was feeling good as I stuck around till closing, watching the last dancers from the lap of one friendly and generous guy or another, sipping simulated drinks and collecting tips.

I headed out of the club with purpose. I was ready to see Erin, and I was thinking maybe it was time to call Amy tomorrow. Finally. As I started to pull my car door open, a large arm reached past me pushing it closed again. I turned to see my tormenter from the prior nights standing way too close. I tried to back up, but the car was right there.

"Hi, babe. I've got a nice crisp Ben Franklin here that says you're gonna suck my dick tonight."

"I think not. I already told you, I'm not a hooker. I don't do sex for money."

"Aw, the bitch thinks she's too good for me." I saw a metallic flash from the corner of my eye, and felt a sharp prick under my chin. "Don't do anything foolish like screaming, girly. Cause it would be your last. Understand?"

I tried to nod, but that pressed the knifepoint into my flesh, so I whispered "Yes."

"Now, let's just walk nice and easy over here. Nothin funny, or this knife will slide real smooth right between these ribs." He was pushing me toward a dark pool of shadow between the back of the club and the next building, and I felt the point of the knife press into my back. I tried to force my limbs to move, but they were not cooperating. The creep had to almost carry me as I staggered forward.

When we got deep into the shadows he spun me around so the knife was pressed to my belly and mashed his lips against mine.

"Come on, baby. I like a little response when I kiss a chick." The knife nudged in a bit, and I felt some pain. This time when he mashed his lips to mine, I kissed back, trying not to gag.

"There, now, see. I knew you could do it." He stuffed something down my bra. "There's that bill I promised you, now lets have some action here." He forced me to my knees, sliding the knife up till the edge rested against my neck none too gently. "You behave yourself down there. I'd hate to have to permanently damage that pretty neck of yours. Now, pull my zipper down." I started to bring my hands up. "With your teeth, bitch!"

My hands dropped to my side, and I struggled to get the zipper tab in my teeth without slicing my throat. I finally managed to do it, and started drawing it down. It was hard to move, and it slipped from my teeth a couple of times before I got it all the way down.

"Good, now reach inside real gentle like and make nice with my big cock, ok sweetie?"

I followed his orders, and soon I was staring at a not overly large veined phallus. I gently stroked it with my hands as the knife remained at my throat.

"Ok, that's good, baby. Now suck it way down deep in your throat. Come on now, you can do it."

I managed to get my seemingly frozen jaw to open, and soon he was sliding inside. Fortunately he was not big, so when it hit the back of my throat, it was about all the way in. He shoved it the rest of the way, and I gagged, and reflexively tried to spit it out.

"Tut, tut. None of that, girly. Just keep working on me with that wonderful cocksuckin' mouth of yours."

I recovered somehow, and started moving back and forth; taking him deep, then out almost all the way. I was able to relax a little, and got my tongue into the game, hoping to get this over as soon as possible. My attacker groaned in ecstasy.

"That's perfect baby. See, I knew you was a pro. Only a pro can do it that good. Oh, yeah, babe. Keep it up."

A few more moments, and thankfully he stiffened and started pumping his sour cum into my throat. I gagged again, and coughed, and semen spattered out around his cock. Then it was over, and he slipped out of my mouth as he rapidly shrank.

"Ok, slut, now lick me clean and zip me up! Careful now." I did as he said, finally pulling the resisting zipper back into place.

Suddenly he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back till my face pointed up toward him, then he snarled, "You thought you were too good for me, bitch. Now we'll see who's too good for who."

I felt a jolt that shook my whole body, and was suffused with a blinding pain that spread from my belly to sear every fiber of my being. He released my hair, and I looked down to see him pulling a blood soaked knife from my abdomen. Unbelievable pain filled me, and I slowly toppled backward till I lay on my back with my legs awkwardly under me. As I gazed up at the beautiful star-speckled sky between the buildings, I thought 'So this is the way it ends. I'm sorry, Amy. I'm so, so, sorry.'

The stars started to fade one by one till everything was black.

To be concluded in Trick or Treat 3

Notes:

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