Chapter Thirty-Five

The morning media were going crazy with the shocking news of Brandin Jessup's crash. His car had veered off the opposite shoulder Old Topanga Canyon Road. His car was a barely recognizable twisted steel ruin and the responding firemen had needed to use the Jaws of Life to remove him from the wreckage. He had been flown out by Care Flight to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, and his condition had been listed as critical.

The Twittersphere was fluttering with speculation as rumors began to emerge. One report claimed that he was engaged in sex with a teen prostitute while driving. Another claimed that he was wearing women's clothing. Still another said it was a suicide attempt. Almost every single rumor speculated on drugs and alcohol.

One particular caller on a morning talk show claimed to have overheard a first-responder saying that the mangled vehicle reeked of alcohol and that several empty beer bottles were found in the wreckage. Although without verification, the story spread like wildfire. As often happens, when enough people tell a story, it gains the semblance of truth. By morning drive time, everyone was talking about how Brandin Jessup had gotten drunk and wrecked his car.

The hospital remained silent on his condition, only offering to update his condition after family notification. Reporters loitering around the hospital got photos of Thomas Dern, escorting a tall, leggy blonde woman wearing dark glasses. This immediately created a new swarm of fluttering speculation about her connection with Brandin Jessup.

Within 30 minutes of their arrival, she was identified as Celia Cole, a fresh new actress.

~o~O~o~

Dana woke before Sloan, she lay on her side observing him in repose and wondering about the strange and twisted path that had brought them here. So many things had changed between them. She knew in her heart that there were still many changes to come. Although one part of her needed those changes, another part was terrified to face them.

In so many ways, She and Sloan had become much closer over these past few days, but in others, they seemed to be drifting apart. Her love for Sloan was still strong. She still felt the desire for him as a lover and as a soul mate. She knew now that there were things that she needed, things that she had denied to herself and to him. Things that each of them knew that he would never be able to give her.

Sloan had needs, too. Needs that he had denied. She was sure that she could fulfill many of them for him, maybe all of them, in time. Danielle seemed to believe that Dana could grow to be everything that Sloan needed. She hoped that the other woman was being honest. Dana had yet to catch either of the Sharps in a lie, but it was like making a deal with the Devil. It was often hard to see the fine print.

She reached out to stroke his cheek, so soft and feminine. Sloan moaned softly, rolling onto his back, exposing the cleft between his legs.

She could make out the chastity cage that Dana had locked him into. She realized that Sloan was getting aroused by a dream as he began growing within the confines of it.

'Poor baby,' she thought, then smiled. 'Soon my love. Just one more day.'

She felt the dampness between her legs in anticipation of tomorrow night's party. As the party planner, she had a pretty good idea of what was in store. She wanted so badly to touch herself, or better yet, to force Sloan's magic tongue between her legs until she screamed for mercy.

'One more day,' she promised herself, feeling a shiver of anticipation as she rose from the bed and padded off to shower.

~o~O~o~

-Sloan felt so good. She was dancing for him, swaying her hips and sliding her hands up to cup her breasts as she saw him hardening in his pants. She turned her back and smiled at him coquettishly over her shoulder as she lowered her swaying ass onto his lap. The music was thumping in time to Sloan's own heartbeat. The beat filling them both with lust as he grabbed for her hips.

She giggled as she playfully slapped his hands away. She turned and made a mock-angry face as she raised a finger and mouthed a pouty 'no-no-no' then smiled sexily and opened his pants freeing his hard shaft. She licked her lips at the sight of the turgid shaft, noticing the glistening dollop at the tip.

Bending down, she used her finger to wipe up that milky droplet and raised it to her mouth as she backed away. She extended her pink tongue and licked it off like a dripping ice cream cone, then hungrily sucked the tip of her finger with a moan of desire, her eyes never leaving
his.

With a smoky gaze, she swayed her hips while turning away and lowering her panties. The twin globes of her ass seemed to mesmerize him as she lowered herself down onto the throbbing shaft. As his fat cock began to penetrate her, they both moaned loudly, but Sloan's moan was as much pain as pleasure. She tried to ride him, but the pain was too much and she had to pull away.

Sloan left Fred with his soft, brown eyes pleading for relief, a bad case blue balls, and a shocked look on his face at the cock cage that was constricting Sloan's own aching shaft.-

~o~O~o~

Sloan awoke with a start to the sound of the shower and the ache of his compressed morning erection. Rushing to the sink, he grabbed a kitchen towel, dampened it, and applied it to his balls. The coolness began to ease his pain as he grabbed a few ice cubes and wrapped them in the towel as well before reapplying it to his deflating member.

'One more day....FUCK!' He thought to himself.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Marco was sitting in his office watching a video. It showed a young girl being roughly gang-banged by five tatted-up young thugs. He was thinking of giving it the title 'Bangin' dem Bitches in da Hood!' it sounded street, and right now that was selling. Marco was pretty sure they could make a fair chunk of change off it since the slut still had that fresh-off-the-farm look. Fortunately, her glazed eyes and listless demeanor were not likely to be that noticeable to the average viewer.

'I hope she had fun, cuz in a year she's just gonna be another drugged-out prostitute.'

He grabbed his phone on the third ring.

"Ya?"

"Mr. Shirzer just rolled in."

"'Bout fuckin time, buzz him in."

Marco Lane had met Dave Shirzer ten years before, and both of their careers had since benefitted by the association. His minded drifted back over the years. It had been a wild ride.

-Marco Lane had been a thug running a few whores on the streets of East LA. Dave had been a gopher for a small-time talent agent. Marco had been told that some white guy was hasslin' one of his girls, so he went to straighten the fucker out.

He found Dave chatting up one of his new girls and overheard him telling her how he could make her a movie star. He paused to listen for a few moments, then he began to laugh at the pudgy white boy's words. The girl suddenly jumped, breaking the spell, but Marco had to admit the fat punk had a silver tongue and a damn good line.

Within a few weeks, they had become partners. Dave knew lots of young women that were desperate to keep their dreams of stardom alive. The vast majority were going nowhere, so Dave started 'helping' the nowhere girls get gigs to aid them in paying the bills. He also took them to parties, got them high, and eventually introduced them to Marco.

Dave had his own agency within a year and began pipelining girls into Marco's businesses. Marco, by this time, had several business interests and he had consolidated them into three levels. New girls were introduced to soft porn modeling and video shoots. Nothing too explicit, just titillating stuff you might see in sexy ads or on cable TV channels. After they got a taste of the lifestyle and the drugs, he moved them into more hardcore porn videos and magazines and used them as moderately-priced escorts. Eventually, they ended up working the streets or were sold off to some out of town connection.

The only bump along the way had been Karin Ridge. When Karin stepped off the bus and into Dave's office, he knew she was gonna be special. Karin was the perfect blend of cute girl-next-door, and saucy Lolita. She had a worldly wisdom that got her noticed in a hurry. Dave was so excited that he had finally discovered a gem after so many years of mining for talent.

Several agencies had made inquiries about her representation, and he had bragged to Marco about it. Marco had advised Dave to sell her contract, and Dave had been vehemently angry about it. It took all of Marco's powers of persuasion to convince his partner to sell her off. It came down to a simple rationale that Dave had been blinded to.

"Dave, do you wanna be rich and be able to fuck hot sexy babes anytime ya want, or do you wanna be errand boy to a Hollywood Goddess and worry every day whether she's gonna dump yer fat ass?"

"What do you mean, Marco?"

"Right now, we are building something that works, but one of the reasons it works is because nobody really looks at us that hard, capisce?"

"Uh....Okay."

"Once ya become a real movie playa in this town, everybody gonna know ya, right?"

"I suppose."

"And what about our partnership? Ya wanna throw it away on some bitch 'ats gonna dump yer ugly ass in sight o' two years?"

Dave pondered the words with growing understanding, but Marco hammered it home, emphasizing the point.

"Here's how I see it, Dave. Ya sells her contract, but ya retain some o' them residyal things. Fer instance, ya get the credit fer discoverin' her so's ya get braggin' rights. Ya gets her ta take some pics an maybe a testify thing ya can put on the wall. Makes ya more legit without the heat, ya know? That makes the newbies even more eager ta sign wit'ya!"

Marco's plan had merit. He sold Karin's contract to a reputable agency and she had an Oscar nomination within the year. Their business boomed. Within three more years, Dave had sold off two other contracts and Marco had expanded their businesses to include male actors and escorts. After all, there was a niche for that kind of thing, a niche that Dave and Marco were more than happy to fill. -

Marco smiled as his partner came in. Dave looked a little haggard as if he had been up all night. He suddenly noticed that he looked like he had been roughed up a little and Marco's smile faded as two more guys followed Dave into the room.

The shock of the taser hit him before he could react to the threat and Marco collapsed backward off his chair as electrical pulses surged through his body. Then it all went dark.

~o~O~o~

He could barely see that Dave was cuffed to a chair on the edge of the pool of light in the center of his office. Marco only needed a few moments to realize that his own wrists and ankles were firmly secured to a straight back chair, as well. Behind the light, he saw a face leaning into him. The rest of the room was in shadow, but he knew that at least one more guy was hovering nearby.

"Don't talk Marco, just listen and nod every time I stop talking, got it?"

The guy was big, maybe 6-3 or so, solid looking and competent. His hair was brown and cut short, almost military. His brown eyes were cold and hard with small crow's feet at the corners, as if he spent a lot of time squinting in the sun. His desk lamp was shining in Marco's face and the play of the shadows on the man's skin gave him a frightening appearance.

The backhand to his face was casual but effective. "That was your cue to nod, asshole."

Marco nodded. He was a tough guy and had proven it many times on the street. But he knew the situation well enough to know when to bend a little. He was not yet scared, but he was definitely wary. He knew his only recourse was to watch and wait for an opportunity.

"Marco, it seems that your little enterprise here has pissed someone off. Someone that does not like being pissed off. Someone that can squish you like a bug."

After a brief pause, Marco nodded again, cautiously.

"This someone wants to make you a business proposition. You want to listen to his offer?"

Another nod.

"He wants you to pack up what you have and relocate to another state, Tonight. And he lets you live. That sound like a plan?"

Marco hesitated, but seeing the eyes harden, he nodded twice more.

"The thing is, Marco. I see you as a hard guy. I can see you making more trouble for someone. Oh sure, you'll pull up stakes and go away, but you're the kind of guy that will come back. You'll carry that anger around and you'll plot, and you'll scheme until you see your chance."

He pulled back out of the light, "The reason I can tell you're that type is because I'm that type, too! Oh, I don't mean we are the same. No Marco, we are most definitely are not the same."

Marco heard a light scraping of metal on metal as the guy continued talking.

"You see, I don't make my living off of the suffering of others. I may not be a saint, but I don't think you and I will be meeting again in the same Hell after we die."

Marco's eyes strained to see the man behind the glare of the lamp.

"By the way, Marco, you forgot to nod, again."

Four muffled pops punctuated the end of Marco and Dave's partnership.

Fred Ibarra calmly unscrewed the suppressor from his Colt 45 Commander and glanced up at the three tap code before opened to admit another man. The newest member of the team looked down at the two bodies on the floor as Bobby Earl Rayburn removed the Velcro cuffs from Dave Shirzer's ankles and wrists while Fred worked on the other.

"Fuck, Fred, the boss said we were just supposed to convince them to leave town!"

Bobby Earl looked up at the new guy, his face blankly honest.

"Sho'nuf look convinced ta me, kid," he pointed out in a soft southern drawl.

Fred almost broke up laughing as the new guy openly gaped at Bobby Earl. Since joining the company two weeks ago, the kid had never heard the quiet southerner say so much as a single word. As Fred rose to his feet, his features calm and composed, he met the kid's eyes head on.

"Kid, you gonna learn that sometimes the boss says what he wants, and sometimes he just expects you to know."

The kid turned around and headed down to where Marco's crew were being detained. As soon as they heard him clumping down the stairs Fred looked over at his buddy, and his face broke into a grin.

"What The Fuck, Bobby Earl? Gonna have to start calling you Chatty Cathy!"

Bobby Earl just snorted and gave his partner a shrug. The two men nodded and followed the new guy downstairs to mop up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Dana and Sloan had listened to the news on the inbound drive. The big stories involved Brandin Jessup's car wreck and a burning warehouse off Whittier Blvd. Jessup's condition was unknown, but the fire was being investigated as possible arson with the city's gang task force involved. There were reports that several bodies had been found in the basement, each had been shot execution-style.

The couple parked at the studio and entered the main offices. They passed Bobbie on the way in, as she nodded good morning and waved them through. Danielle was sitting on the sofa, holding her cell phone as if she had been texting. They stopped and stood together just inside the door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Danielle called out, "Taylor, present yourself."

Sloan walked to the older woman, stopped, and lifted his calf-length skirt to his waist. Gripping his panties, he lowered them to mid-thigh, then held the skirt high while blushing profusely. Dana's already wet pussy surged as she witnessed her husband's humiliation.

"I see you are still safely locked up." She announced, then added almost to herself, but loud enough for Dana to hear, "I cannot believe that I caught you masturbating in my private bathroom." Her voice oozed her disapproval. "If I had known what a wanton slut you are, I would have instructed Dana to put you into a restraint from day one." She made a dismissive sound and delivered a final, scathing comment. "How shamelessly disgusting!"

Her eyes moved past Sloan to take in his wife, "Dana, come here."

She approached them, stopping to her husband's left and looking at Danielle's shoes.

"It excites you to see Taylor this way, doesn't it you nasty girl, and don't you dare lie to me."

"Yes, Miss," she meekly replied. "It does excite me."

"Taylor, prove to me that she is not lying."

Sloan gave her a pleading look, then his shoulders drooped as he dropped his skirt, his panties still at half mast. Dana kept her eyes on the floor, her body quivering as Sloan lifted her skirt and slid his fingers along the gusset of her panties, making her moan as she grabbed his shoulder to remain upright.

He lifted his three middle fingers like a boy scout swearing an oath. They were moist and glistening.

"I can't see from there, come closer."

He stepped forward and she grabbed his wrist maneuvering him to her left so that Dana could see him in profile. First she brought the fingers to her nose, inhaling deeply. She then stretched her tongue out into an impossibly long reach tasting just the tip of his middle finger. Finally, she sucked all three fingers into her mouth and savored them, making a soft sound.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm."

Dana yearned to feel that lengthy organ within her soaking pussy. She had been consistently bombarded by sexual hunger over the last two weeks without relief. Her mind was feverish with need. She swore she could taste it like pheromones in the air around her. She felt guilty that she had actually been relieving herself at times over the last few days, without letting Danielle know. She had felt it necessary to confess to Sloan, vowing that no longer would she lie to her husband.

When she felt somewhat recovered, she looked up into Danielle's knowing grin. "Taylor, listen carefully to me, girl. Have you remained chaste, as I commanded?"

"Yes, Miss!" came the rapid affirmation.

"No sexual release...at all?"

He blushed. "Miss, I had wetness leaking from my cage this morning, but I swear I did not masturbate."

"Really?" She was watching Dana's eyes, her gaze never wavering, during this exchange.

"I swear to you Miss, my wife did not touch me or induce it."

"I see. And what were you dreaming of that aroused you so much?"

Sloan blushed a deep scarlet. "I...I do not know, Miss!"

Her eyes stabbed him like a knife as she thundered, "DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME, SLUT!"

Sloan gulped nervously, "Well....I dreamed of a...a dancing girl...a lap dance."

"And......?"

"It...ummm...it turned into sex."

"A Fuck dream...and were you watching or participating?"

"P-participating," He whispered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"How delicious for you, sweet girl," she purred as she ran a hand up his arm sending shivers coursing through his body. "And who was fucking whom?"

"Well uh...that is...Ummm"

Her grip tightened on his forearm and her nails bit in almost breaking the skin.

"Tell me, Taylor...how big was his cock?"

"It was about...." He froze, hands about eight inches apart before he realized the enormity of his confession. He heard Dana's gasp, as Danielle clapped excitedly," Brava, sweet Taylor, another conquest."

Sloan could only blush and stare at the floor

~o~O~o~

Brandin Jessup was wheeled out of surgery about noon. He had severe trauma to the brain, a punctured lung, internal hemorrhaging, and a plethora of additional injuries. The surgeon, who met with Thomas Dern, Floyd Denison (Brandin's attorney) and Celia Cole (Brandin's fake girlfriend) laid out the laundry list of injuries for them. He went on to tell them that his relaxed state, due to intoxication, may have kept him from dying at the scene.

"W-will he...will he s-survive, doctor?" asked Celia with trembling lip and all the melodrama of a veteran soap star.

"That depends on many factors, Miss Cole. He is somewhat stabilized in a medically induced coma. We will closely monitor him as there may be additional injuries that manifest themselves in the days to come. We removed forty-two bone fragments from his brain. Some of his broken bones have not been set, as we did not wish to extend the surgery and risk further trauma. Those will need to be dealt with, but are not presently life threatening."

Celia's tears left rivulets down her cheeks, ruining her carefully-applied makeup, but she knew it was a good effect in this situation. it enhanced the dark circles of her eyes and added to the image of a grieving lover. She kept her face in character, although she was inwardly excited at the media swarm waiting outside to interview her, plain old Cathy Cole who couldn't even get a prom date her junior year.

Thomas was cool and professional, questioning the surgeon about Brandin's level of care and making sure he was getting the best treatment possible. Meanwhile, J. Floyd Denison, Attorney-at-Law held the quaking girl in an awkward embrace, hoping her mascara and runny nose didn't soil his Stefano Ricci shirt and Salvatore Ferragamo tie. Celia snuffled on, inconsolably, as the exhausted surgeon finally left them alone in the small waiting room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Celia stepped back and crossed the room to a mirror on the wall. As she examined her face, Thomas dismissed the lawyer and assured him that it would be business as usual from the Jessup estate as long as Brandin remained alive. They both understood that contingency plans would need to be made, just in case he didn't.

Crossing to Celia, Thomas stood behind her, meeting her eyes in the well-polished mirror.

"Nicely done, Celia."

"You don't think it was too overemotional? I was afraid I might be overdoing it."

He pondered, considering. "No. It was fine."

"So are we going out now?" Her voice was eager.

"Oh my goodness, no. We have to wait at least twenty minutes before we can leave."

"But why?" she asked, with knotted brow.

"Well first, we must allow Mr. Denison time to make a few comments to the press."

Her eyes narrowed, "I thought he was not supposed to make any comments. You said we would be the ones explaining things to the press."

"That is correct, my dear girl, but Floyd Denison is a high profile attorney. He can easily milk fifteen or twenty minutes out of a crowd of news hounds without saying a single substantive word. That allows him some free media face time, plus it allows the media to get even more desperate for a soundbite. By the time we walk out the door, they will be in a feeding frenzy. Just make sure that you use me as your prop, cry whenever they ask a question that isn't on point and stick to the script."

"Got it."

"See that you do." He gave her a stern look and spoke with complete calm. "Celia, if you play this right, and follow the script the way I laid it out, you may very well find yourself featured in a major motion picture."

"I will, Sir. I can do this, I promise."

Thomas Dern's eyes softened into a very sad look, then he sighed. "Of late, my child, that is an expression that I find myself to be losing faith in."

Almost exactly twenty-five later, Celia Cole of Danbury, Connecticut, with a firm grip on Thomas Dern's arm, walked out of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and into a media circus.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The evening news showed a grieving Celia Cole gripping the arm of Thomas Dern as if her life depended on it. Several microphones were thrust into their faces as they attempted to answer questions about Brandin Jessup's condition. the questions seemed to run in circles.

Q: Was Brandin drunk?

A: Only the doctors can say. Right now we are focused on his health.

Q: How long have you been a couple?

A: we have been seeing each other for a while, but we both thought it best not to share it with the public. Brandin had enough to deal with, and I didn't want to capitalize on his name.

Q: Why was Brandin on Old Topanga in the middle of the night?

A: We were staying at a friend's house, Brandin suffers from insomnia, as most of his fans know, and went for a drive.

Q: Why was he alone?

A: I had gone to bed, and he didn't wake me. He has always been considerate that way.

Q: Was it true he was wearing women's clothing?

A: (muffled tears as she buries her head against Thomas' arm. Thomas fields the question) I think that is unwarranted speculation. I don't know why you would ask a question like that at a time like this.

Q: Is it true that .....

The news cut back to a the anchor who added, '

'Brandin Jessup's condition is still listed as critical, and concerned fans are being urged to visit Life4Brandin.com for further details. The website also offers information for those wishing to donate blood or to offer financial support. In further news, police are investigating a suspicious fire at an East Los Angeles warehouse as a gang-related crime, and they fear it may be the precursor to a drug war. We take you to Pamela Chase for the latest dev...'

Dana turned off the TV and looked at her husband.

"I love you, Sloan."

"I love you, too."

"I am so worried about tomorrow." She buried her head into his chest, the breast forms pressing into her cheek.

"It'll be fine, really it will."

"I don't trust them, and yet..."

"Baby, we have talked about this and talked about this. We both know what we want, and we both know what they want. We have to play it their way if we want to reach that goal."

"What if they don't cast you? What if they pick someone else for the role?"

Sloan nodded to the TV, "Well the number one contender for that scenario is out. I guess there could be others, and I would not wish Brandin Jessup's fate on anyone, but I am certain that if they give me a fair shot at the part, I will get it."

"I know you will, but what about the rest?"

"We both knew from the start that it was possible that they would demand a quid pro quo, baby. We both are interested in at least exploring the idea, whether they demand it or not, right?"

Dana nodded into his chest.

"So the worst they can do is drop us from the project. That puts us back where we were a month ago. can we go back to that life?"

"I...I think so...I hope so."

"Hopefully, we won't need to find out. Look, if we go along for a while, I get the part, shooting begins, and we decide we can't play their twisted little games, can they really afford to drop us from the project?"

"No. I have seen the budget. They will definitely be in too deep to cut us loose if that happens."

"So. We take a chance and get a little kinky with them...something we both think we want...and then we re-evaluate."

"I suppose so. By the way, thank you for not ratting me out to Ms. Sharp."

"When?"

"When she was asking you about your chastity. She was looking at me and I was sure she was going to ask about me."

"Ahhhh....yeah, I was afraid that was where she was headed."

Dana pulled back and searched his face. "You mean....did you make up that story to throw her off?"

Sloan wanted to cop out, he held her gaze for only a few seconds before crumbling. He bowed his head for a few moments, then raised his eyes to hers, tears of shame sliding down his face.

"No baby. It was true," he whispered, "and if she had asked me about you, I would have had to tell her the truth."

Her gaze softened as she leaned in to kiss his soft lips. "It's okay, baby. I understand."

~o~O~o~

... din Jessup's condition is still listed as critical, and concerned fans are being urged to visit Life4Brandin.com for further details. The website also offers information for those wishing to donate blood or to offer financial support. In further news, police are investigating a suspicious fire at an East Los Angeles warehouse as a gang-related...'

Thomas Dern turned off the TV and leaned back into his chair, fingers steepled under his chin as he considered the events of the last few days.

'Foolish boy,' he thought. 'Foolish, foolish boy.'

Brandin had always been impetuous. He accepted that fact, but he also enjoyed it, in a strangely vicarious way.

'I suppose it's always easy to love a child's faults,' he equivocated. 'After all, that's how children are.'

He should not have told them to leave Brandin's keys, or he should have, at the very least, left George or another of the bodyguards with him.
How could he have failed to see this coming?

Thomas knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brandin had been coming to him, coming to apologize, coming to ask for one more chance. He wondered if he would have granted it. He liked to believe that he would have. He hoped that he would have, but he feared that he would have refused.

Thomas Dern had no children that he was aware of. Having had only three sexual encounters with women in over fifty-one years of life, he was relatively certain that this was true. He had zero interest in sex, and those three encounters had helped to reinforce his abstinence. He also knew that men held no interest for him, either.

He was aware of the nickname that had been placed upon him during his career, and it often was useful in his business. He was shrewd, he never drank, smoked, nor used drugs. He was scrupulously fair and honest without being a pushover. People trusted Thomas Dern, and even though he had never been a Mormon, he cultivated the image because it made his business dealings easier. He was actually ambivalent on most religious matters and had no opinion on the existence of God.

He was sure, in his heart, that Brandin was never getting out of the hospital, and he was unsure if the estate, considering Brandin's many excesses, would be able to handle the exorbitant expenses associated with his care, not to mention that dreadful harpy from whose loins Brandin sprang.

Her stroke had almost made Thomas a believer in God. until that day she had been nothing but a pain the posterior to Thomas. Eileen
Jeppesen had redefined the term, 'stage mother.' During the years that he had been the young star's agent, she had been a constant source of irritation, contradicting every decision, making unreasonable demands of directors and studios, bullying his co-stars, and forcing Thomas to work twice as hard just to keep him employed.

The one bright spot had been Brandin. He was extremely talented, amazingly articulate, and completely gorgeous. He had a face that Michelangelo or Donatello would have immortalized. He could captivate you with a smile, a nod, or a wink. Brandin was truly a treasure, and the only person Thomas Dern had ever loved.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, the breeze off the Pacific had cleared the smog and the weather was a perfect 73F. Sloan was in and out of the shower first, as Dana made a light breakfast of toast, yogurt, and cantaloupe. As he ate, she slipped into the shower and got dressed for their big day. At 9:00 sharp, a car parked at the curb, and the couple hurried out to meet it.

Their first stop was to be the same spa off Rodeo where Sloan had visited the day of the kidnapping attempt. The memory made her think of Fred, with his firm body, confident manner, and soft eyes. She blushed at the memory, and wondered how he was doing, and if Fred ever thought about her.

Sloan was well aware that Fred knew exactly what she was, but she was also realized that Fred had never once acted repulsed by Sloan. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Fred had treated Sloan like a lady from the moment they met until he and Bobby Earl had dropped her off at the studio.

During their brief time together there had been a definite spark between them, especially during those last twenty minutes before they reached the studio. She had sat in the back of the car with Fred while the laconic Bobby Earl drove without comment. She could remember some country song lamenting over a 'broken heart' and how 'somebody done somebody wrong,' and feel every incidental touch, awkward glance, and intimate smile between them. Sloan had been so frightened, yet so hopeful that he would try to kiss her before she got out of the car. Alas, he had only smiled, patted her hand and said good-bye.

She knew that she should be disgusted by these feelings, but wasn't. She knew that much of society considered people like her to be freaks.

She also knew that she felt a desperate need to explore this side of herself. It was like going through life, always feeling as though something is missing, then discovering that you have a long-lost twin sister out there, somewhere. How could anyone walk away without at least trying to find her?

Sloan and Dana had scoured the internet for information on people like her, but much of it did not strike the same chord. Sloan felt no desire to remove her penis. This deemed to be a common feeling amongst most transsexuals. They felt they were trapped in the wrong body. The penis made them feel wrong like it was some alien organism and should not be part of them.

Breasts were another thing. Sloan wanted them but knew that they would have a negative impact on her acting career. She was okay with the breast forms, for now, but she knew that eventually she needed to buy or grow her own. Growing them would require hormones, and hormones meant sterility. Sloan shivered at the thought. In the past, they had each expressed the desire to have children, someday. Of course, research explained that they could always freeze her sperm and use them for later fertilization upon Dana's eggs. Still it would be a huge bridge to cross.

Another major drawback would be the loss of sexual function in her penis. This was another scary concept for Sloan, who enjoyed having a penis. She loved the pleasure that it gave her. It wasn't just Sloan, either. Dana loved the pleasure that it gave to her, although their forced celibacy of late had certainly put a damper on that. No, the idea of hormones seemed to be a non-starter at this point.

That left implants. Sloan felt that implants could definitely be a possibility in the near future if they chose to continue on their current course.

Many tall, athletic women had small breasts. She could add a pair that gave her some form, maybe even enhance her flat ass by adding a little padding to round it out a bit. Nothing huge, or particularly noticeable, just something to add shape to her body.

She tried to visualize how she would look and smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts, my love?"

Sloan gave a soft blush which brought a grin and a giggle from Dana. "You shameless hussy! How big was that dream cock, anyway?"

Sloan blushed even deeper and shook her head adamantly. "No, baby. I was picturing myself with real breasts. Trying to imagine how I would look with real boobs, instead of falsies."

"Do you really want them?" Dana sounded concerned.

"I think I do," Sloan replied, staring down in embarrassment. "I don't mean great big ones," he hurriedly added, looking up to see if Dana was hurt, or angry. "Maybe a small B-cup?"

"It's okay sweetie, I'm not angry. remember, honesty always," she kissed him, softly. "I think they would be cute, and so much more fun than these!" She playfully 'honked' his fake boobs.

They arrived at the spa and were immediately led to private rooms for their treatments. Sloan had already been waxed on her previous visit, so was only getting extensions, styling, and makeup. Everything had been arranged by Danielle Sharp, and she let her mind float free as she was pampered and prettied up for her big night.

It was almost 3:00 when they left the spa and nearing 4:00 when they arrived at the Sharps' home in the hills overlooking Los Angeles. The pair were met by a servant who ushered them into Danielle's home office.

The tall woman crossed quickly to meet them. "I was beginning to wonder what happened to you two. Let me get a look at you both."

Danielle stopped at Dana first, holding her hands at arm's length as she eyed her up and down, then smiled, radiantly. "Yummy. You look good enough to eat."

She leaned in and placed a kiss on Dana's lips. Sloan watched them in profile, noting the heat between them. Even though the kiss was relatively chaste, it lingered and he saw Dana melt into it.

Dana was breathless when it ended, almost stumbling forward when those delicious lips withdrew from hers. She felt the rising heat of passion and the moisture between her thighs.

'Oh My God,' she thought as Danielle drew her closer to Sloan and began a complete inspection, circling him like a shark.

"Very nice, sweet girl," she murmured as her fingertips caressed his feminized body. "Very nice, indeed!"

Finally stopping in front of him, and still firmly gripping Dana's hand, she declared, "We are going to have so much fun."

Sloan raised her eyes from where she had been examining the hardwood floor to see Danielle's right arm snake around Dana's slender waist and pull her body tight against her, forcing Dana to arch her neck up to meet those dark blue orbs. Danielle smiled down into Dana's soft green eyes leaned her face down until their lips were lightly brushing as she carefully enunciated each word.

"SO....MUCH...FUN!"

She grabbed Dana's lower lip between her teeth and pulled it, lightly, making both Dana and Sloan weak at the knees.

"Come. There is much to do." She released Dana, swatting her ass. "Let's get this party started!"