"Fish! God, no! Not that, not again! Please don't! What will your wife think?"
"Hell, Honey. I'm filming this. This gets my own rocks off," laughed Mamie.

Aubrey tried in vain to mash out some of the worst lumps in her old mattress. She heard a familiar clomping sound coming up the stairs; she rushed to lock the door. Futile. There was sound of a key on the other side unlocking it again. Fish opened the door and walked in with his greasy leer. “I own the place, remember? I got keys for every door in here, ‘specially yours, Bambs.”

“What’s up, boss,” Bambi nervously asked. Wait! Wasn’t she Aubrey now?

“That whale was mad, mad, mad. He said you refused to lay him!”

“B — boss, he had a bad heart! He said he couldn’t have sex!”

“Are you lubed up, Bambs?”

“Oh no, Fish. Please. Please don’t. If he wants, I’ll let him screw me now. Where is he?”

“Sounds like I need to give you another one of my personal lessons on how to properly fuck a john. Today’s lesson: always be lubed. If not, it feels like this. TURN AROUND, AND BEND OVER.”

“Fish! God, no! Not that, not again! Please don’t! What will your wife think?”

“Hell, Honey. I’m filming this. This gets my own rocks off,” laughed Mamie with her smartphone aimed at Bambi’s butt.

She tried to struggle but her arms were made of lead. Fish shoved her by the shoulder blades into a bent over position. Bambi could see out the window, and there was Francine, with some rich movie star in a Lamborghini. As they drove by, she heard Francine say, “my roomie was such a loser”. Then suddenly she felt a hairy hand pull her panties down.

“FishfishfishfishnononononoNONONOAAAAAAHH!

Aubrey jerked awake.

Her face bloomed bright red even through her makeup as she realized many of her co-passengers were staring at her. The flight attendant walked up.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Bad dream. Sorry. Um … what exactly did people hear me saying?”

The concerned old man sitting next to her smiled. “It sounded like someone was trying to force you to eat fish, and you didn’t want to.”

“That’s actually a fairly close interpretation of my dream,” she laughed nervously.

“It’s good for you, you know. What don’t you like about fish?”

“The smell. He — ah, it … stinks.”

What a whirlwind of a day. Her ride in Grant’s limo had ended at the Flagstaff airport, where a last minute ticket for a flight to Phoenix had been purchased. Two cheap zip up bags were bought along the way, and all of her essentials were placed in them. Jace had indicated that the moped would be shipped to her new temporary address there. Twenty-eight hours ago she had been in her dumpy room contemplating the possibility of suicide. So much had happened since. Aubrey closed her eyes, but did not want to return to her nightmare. Instead, she recalled how life had started to go wrong.

As a teenager named David Johnson, desperation and frustration seemed to build daily. With every deepening vocal tone, every new whisker popping up on his face, he was becoming something he didn’t want to be: a man. A big, husky, manly man. At least in body. His parents loved and supported him fantastically in every way, except for the desire that he needed to be a girl. And that desire, blocked and countermanded, made him more miserable each day.

The religious “counselor” kept refusing to write him a recommendation or even a referral to get hormones, and his parents wouldn’t send him to anyone else. “Just wait — you’re going to love being a man. That testosterone will kick in, and those girls will start to look irresistible. Then you’ll look back and be so glad you didn’t follow this childish whim. Lots of kids experiment with gender and grow out of it; you will too, just give it time.” Like a good boy, he obeyed and gave it time. And the advice betrayed him.

He met Frank — whose femme name was “Francine” — online in a support group chat room. She was in the same position, and lived in Boise just like him! They were the same age — 16 — and went to different high schools. They hit it off and became friends, finally meeting in front of the JC Penney’s entrance at the mall. David was sure that God must have been involved in them finding each other.

The plan they came up with was to leave just after graduation and go to a big city. To find doctors, get on hormones, and transition. They were a team. They could do this, together. They chose Las Vegas.

It went as they had hoped for the first 6 months. Both had jobs in the food service industry; both took on second jobs, David (now calling herself Aubrey) delivering pizzas, Francine delivering papers. The hormones started to work. Francine’s body seemed to soak them up and she became gorgeous in short order. She applied for and got a job in a drag show on the strip; it was there that she met her boyfriend. She moved in with him without telling Aubrey, who found herself now responsible for all the rent and bills of their lease. The sudden burden was so great that she had no more money to pay for hormones or doctor visits.

Frustrated, she decided to get money the quick way: prostitution. She was introduced to Levi by a street hooker. His offer sounded like a fair deal. She’d live upstairs in a room in his house; he would take care of building up her bank account. She figured 2-3 years tops, and she’d have the money for SRS and new breasts, then get a real job — as a woman.

She sighed as she looked at the night sky from the plane window. Levi had seemed like a stand up guy — until she took the deal. Then she found that her bank account never got over $200 total, there were lots of “hidden” fees, and sleeping with strangers — god, what soul draining work. Levi did send her to his plastic surgeon, but it seemed that even with surgery Aubrey — now “Bambi” — would never be a beauty. Levi — now known as “Fish” — did pay for a quick breast enhancement; but it was a bad piece of work, leaving her with unnatural, alien baseballs that protruded strangely from her manly chest.

And there were Fish’s occasional “lessons”. He said they were for instruction, but Bambi knew they were just his sick abuses inflicted on a trapped transgirl.

Aubrey realized she was weeping. The poor old man next to her was going to think she was traumatizing over tilapia if she didn’t start thinking happy thoughts. Picking up the airline magazine in front of her, she ended her sad remembrances with one caution: her bad choices, and trusting the wrong people, had ruined her life. She hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t now making those same mistakes again.

~o~O~o~

Disembarking from the plane, she walked through the terminal and down to the luggage area. Going down the escalator, she saw a short, middle-aged woman in a pinstriped power blazer and skirt with high black pumps waiting at the exit. In her hands, she held a small sign that spelled “Aubrey from Las Vegas”.

She walked up to the woman. “Carlotta?”

Carlotta smiled. “Aubrey! How so very nice to meet you. Come along, dear; did you check a bag?”

“No, I don’t have much — just these carry ons.”

“Excellent. Follow me.” Carlotta began walking towards the parking garage. “How was your flight?”

“Smooth.” Except for the bumpy turbulence of my memories, she added silently. “Uh, where are we going — and exactly what are we doing?”

“All will be explained, dear, but it’s going to take some time. It’s nearly midnight, and I don’t know about you, but I’m about to turn into a pumpkin. That’s why I’m dropping you off at the Hyatt for tonight. Get some good sleep and meet me for a late breakfast at 10 am in the lobby restaurant, the Terrace Café. Then we’ll figure out the next 3 months. Is that acceptable for you?”

“It sounds fabulous! Wow — last night the Venetian, tonight the Hyatt! I could get used to this treatment!”

“Enjoy it fully, but don’t get ‘used’ to it,” said the older woman with a wry look. “For this next chapter in your life to be a success, you’ll likely need to work harder than you ever have before.” With that, she turned on the car stereo, and a playlist of fusion jazz began to trickle through the speakers. “I’m not a huge fan of this music, but I know you are. Realize that successful people are great listeners. Mr. Brisbane heard you mention that you loved this style, and asked that I procure some for your enjoyment on the drive.”

Aubrey was impressed. She had only mentioned the jazz in the middle of a grand emotive statement. Grant didn’t miss a thing. Successful people are great listeners. She wrote that fact down in her mental tablet.

~o~O~o~

8:30 am. Aubrey viewed the clock wishing that she could stop time for a full day — this bed was so glorious. At least another hour in it couldn’t hurt. She could do a rush job and still not get to breakfast too much after ten —

She sat bolt upright. No. No more sloppy living. Time to prove to Grant that his investment in her — whatever the heck it consisted of — was not going to waste. She hopped out of bed and headed towards the shower.

At 9:54, Aubrey got off the elevator at the atrium level. As she passed by a mirror she checked out her outfit; a purple long sleeved shirt with butterflies outlined in rhinestones, hip hugger blue jeans with a gold belt with matching sandals. Walking into the restaurant, she saw a smiling Carlotta in a smart business outfit.

“Oh, no. I was hoping I wouldn’t keep you waiting —“

“You didn’t, sweetie. I just walked in myself.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have something more formal to wear. You dress so classy.”

“I can define ‘class’ in a number of ways. Nothing is classier than arriving on time,” she beamed. “It makes a great first impression.”

~o~O~o~

“So, you obviously have talked to Grant. How much do you know about me?” Aubrey took a bite of waffle.

“Everything he knows, plus a little more. I ‘googled’ yesterday to learn more about transgenderism, et cetera. By the way, you should call him Mr. Brisbane.”

“He told me to call him Grant …”

“That was when you were his date. Now he is your benefactor, and unless that status changes, out of respect you should address him formally. That’s my advice, by the way — not his demand.”

Carlotta sipped her hot tea. “Before we go further, I have some questions for you,” she said, pulling out a notepad computer.

Twenty minutes of interrogation later, Aubrey whistled. “Wow. That was thorough. I felt like I was being screened as if I were applying for the Secret Service.”

“Let’s see …” the businesswoman muttered as she moved some data around on her pad. “I’m going to sum up my impression of you. Be prepared, as much of the news is not good. But I’m sure you want me to be honest with you.”

“Just don’t be mean,” said a worried girl in a purple shirt.

“The truth may be mean, but I myself intend not to be,” Carlotta reassured.

“First, the raw data. You are a transgendered female. You have gone through male puberty and therefore have many male attributes physically. Hormones have been given to you, but not closely monitored by a physician. You’ve spent the last two years in prostitution, and during that time have suffered verbal and sexual abuse. You have had some love and cultural training in your life, but have abandoned both since high school to try to complete your physical transition to womanhood.”

“Now the bad. Little experience with budgeting, saving, and bank accounts; you deferred those tasks to others. Your views and experiences with romantic love and intimacy have been horribly warped by your sex work and the abuse. No marketable skills; your dream was to become a concert violist, and that died when you ‘ran away’ from home. By my BMI calculations, you’re overweight by probably 35 pounds. You are ‘read’ as a male rather easily. The breast augmentation … well, it did you no favors, I agree. Likely clinically depressed, and have been suicidal. You’ve burned all your bridges with your loved ones and friends, in your view. So, in short, you are in dire straits, sister.”

Aubrey had the fine cloth napkin to her eyes as she silently nodded her head. Carlotta paused to let her young charge finish crying.

Finally the young transgirl looked up. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

“I saved the best for last, dear.” The older woman gave an empathetic look and squeezed Aubrey’s shaking hand. “Here’s what you have going for you. You have a knack for caring for people, and possess a gentle touch. Yes, Mr. Brisbane told me about how you ministered to him with hot cloths. You have courage to stand up for what is right; I heard how you confronted Jace to allow you to stay and be with Mr. B. Although you’ve been around cultural crudeness the last 24 months, there is still the spark of a refined soul in you, one who wants to engage her mind before her mouth, who is meek and humble. That’s what I see in you worth salvaging, and developing.”

“In ninety days?” Aubrey was skeptical.

“As I have told you, you’ll have to work harder than you ever have. But yes. I believe it can be done.”

~o~O~o~

Carlotta dropped off Aubrey at an apartment complex.

“You’ll be in unit 1213. Go into the office and introduce yourself, dear. When you show them ID, they’ll give you the key.”

“That may be a problem. Legally, I’m still — ”

“David Johnson. Yes, I know, dear. And so do they. I’ve been assured by the management that they will be respectful of your transitioning status. You do have your male ID, don’t you?”

Aubrey nodded her head, her mouth agape. This woman knows — and has thought of — everything!

“Wow, Carlotta. Furniture? Electricity? Phone?”

“Yes, dear. Adequately furnished and power’s on. There is a prepaid cell phone in there — use your minutes wisely. You also have a computer, internet access and a stereo — but no television.”

“Huh? Why?”

“All will be explained, child. Please count your blessings before you complain about it, though. I shall return tonight at 7, and then I will answer the mysteries of your new universe. I’ll bring supper, too. See you then,” as she took off in her BMW.

~o~O~o~

The two women ate a supper of romaine salad with chicken breast and raspberry vinaigrette dressing.

“This stuff tastes great, Carlotta!”

“Thank you. I know it’s not the most filling of meals, but we both need to be mindful of our figures, dear.”

“I just wish I had a figure.”

“Hmm. You never know; some eventual weight loss might disclose the semblance of curves on you. So, is this apartment sufficient? It’s just a small one-bedroom, but it should be livable.”

“You should have seen where I was living before. This is definitely an upgrade.”

“One skill that we may need to work on is eating gently with good manners rather than inhaling the meal.” Aubrey flushed with embarrassment to see that her plate was cleaned while her dinner companion was barely half way through her food.

Carlotta wiped her mouth after her eventual last bite. She then put her plate aside and placed a stack of forms and papers on the table. Her eyes suddenly took on a serious tone as she looked intently at Aubrey.

“All right. I’ve had the afternoon to work on searching out resources for you. Let’s call this project Fresh Start 2.0.

“First: Employable skill. Your care of Mr. Brisbane on Valentine’s Day shows an aptitude for handling frail, sickly bodies. In his opinion — and mine — you would make a fantastic personal care attendant, also known as a nurses’ aide or home health care aide. It is a job that will make you some basic money, as well as give you a foundation for continuing an education towards nursing if you so desire. There is a nurses’ aide training program here, and it just happens to be twelve weeks long. Classes begin Monday. Here’s the application form and information packet. I called, and they do have an opening for another trainee. If you apply and are accepted, Mr. B. will pay your tuition.

“Second: Money savvy. You may have heard of a “Financial Peace University” course that is being taught once a week at many churches and civic centers. They will talk about budgeting, basic money habits, and progress to investing. Classes are once a week. There’s one starting in two weeks at the nearby city library branch.” She passed a flyer to Aubrey. “Again, your fee will be covered.

“Third: Exercise. Taking care of your body is part of being successful. There is a park with lit walking/jogging trails just next to the complex. You should start with walking, at least 20 minutes a day. I have a handout here on how to safely begin a physical activity regimen. Please read it tonight.

“Fourth: Medical Care. I have you set up with appointments with an endocrinologist and a general internal medicine specialist for this week. Tomorrow you start your first session with a gender therapist, 10 am. You’ll need all of these if you are to have a successful transition.

“Fifth: Recovery from abuse, and sexual addiction.”

Aubrey’s neck bristled. “Sex addiction? I did sex as a job, not out of pleasure. I wasn’t a nymphomaniac.”

“Can you say that your experiences with sex have set you up for a healthy, romantic sexual relationship whenever you do meet that ‘special someone’?”

The young blonde sighed. “No.”

“Two groups: SARP — Sexual Abuse Recovery Program, and Sexaholics Anonymous. There are meetings of both, multiple times a week; usually in the evenings. I will require you attend one of each weekly.

“Sixth: Cooking. You told me you only know how to make pop tarts and hot dogs. You must expand your skills in this, or losing weight — and keeping on a budget — will be impossible. I’ve stocked your refrigerator with food to tide you through this week, but on Saturdays I will personally come over and we will focus on preparing meals that you can refrigerate, then grab and reheat throughout the week. This will be in addition to our thrice-weekly face to face meetings and daily phone contact regarding how things are going with this whole program.

“Seventh — ”

“Seventh?! How many more points to this project are there?” Aubrey held her spinning head.

“This is the last one, dear,” Carlotta said with a slight grin. “R and R. Rest and Relaxation. Do try to get at least 8 hours of sleep nightly. And you may use the Internet to watch an occasional Hulu program, or play a game or two. You’ll need the ‘net to complete your nurse aide training, anyway. No TV set or cable, though; in my view, that tends to cause insomnia and waste time. Doing without the boob tube for three months shouldn’t kill you. If you find yourself bored, you may listen to the stereo, radio, or play the viola that I tucked away in your coat closet.”

“There’s a viola in the coat closet?!”

“I thought that would bring a smile to you … and I can see it has. I found it at a pawnshop yesterday after Mr. Brisbane first called me. It’s not in the best shape, and it may need new strings, but it should be playable.

“And that, Ms. Johnson, is your proposed life for the next three months.”

Aubrey was without words. Her brain was trying to process the huge agenda laid before her. Finally questions started to form in her head, and she allowed them escape through her mouth.

“I’ll need clothes … and gas money for my scooter … I have no cash on me.”

“Oh! I knew I forgot some details. You will have an allowance to be able to buy the needed scrubs and school attire, as well as food, gas, et cetera. It won’t be a huge amount, ergo the need to know how to budget. I’ll help you get an initial budget down tonight until you learn how to do your own.”

“Carlotta … you said my ‘proposed’ life? What does that mean?”

The older woman folded her hands. “It means that this plan is voluntary, Aubrey. You will not be forced to follow it; frankly, you can walk away from it all now. The apartment has been leased on a month-to-month basis, so you could refuse this offer and still have the place to live in for the next few weeks, and you have all the food in the ‘fridge. But Mr. B. and I would not give you additional funding. The rest of your future would be in your hands. If you agree to the plan though, you get all the benefits. But you would be required to do all of the seven points I outlined to continue to get them.”

“Understood. Why is he doing this for me? Why are you?”

“Honey … I get paid for this. I am a life coach, among other things. You aren’t the first ‘project’ that he’s had me assigned to. See, Mr. B. is a rich man, and a very charitable one. He loves giving money to help people — but he wants to make sure he’s truly making a difference. That’s why he doesn’t donate to any but the most effective charities, the ones who operate with integrity and can show that they really are producing results.

“You, my girl, are someone who needed help that no available organization could provide. So when he learned of your predicament, he decided to do your rescuing personally. He only does something like this when no other help is available, and when he thinks the person he’s investing in will not just take the money and use it to buy drugs, or alcohol, or a big screen TV. He obviously saw something in you that said you were worth the risk.”

What the hell did he see in me? I’m a living screw-up, thought Aubrey. “Carlotta, do you see something in me worth saving?”

“Absolutely, my dear. The first sign of it was you showing up to our breakfast meeting on time — a few minutes early, even.”

“Okay … this is going to take a lot of money. How much is this costing Gra- uh, Mr. Brisbane?”

“The three month total, including my substantial fee, will be somewhere around twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND!” Aubrey stood up so rapidly from the table that it knocked her chair over. “Twenty-five thousand …” She covered her face with her hands and ran to the bedroom.

“Hm?” Carlotta had not expected this exact reaction. She rose and straightened her skirt, then followed her protégé’s path.

Aubrey was on her knees in front of the furnished queen bed. Her face lay weeping on top of her crossed arms so as not to drip mascara directly onto the comforter. A visible tremor encompassed her whole body, even making her sobs quiver.

Carlotta gently knelt by the girl and stroked her back lightly with her hand. Aubrey felt her presence, but was not consoled.

“Twenty-five…! There’s … there’s no way I can even begin to pay him back! Not while he’s still alive! ‘Cause he said he’s only got (sob) months until his heart …” She continued to weep face down.

The businesswoman smiled and felt her own eyes moistening. Grant’s instincts about this one had been spot on; her soul was indeed golden. “He’s not expecting a monetary return, honey,” she whispered. “You, living a good successful life — saving yourself, in other words — will be his reward, whether he sees it in person or from heaven’s grandstands.”

“I’m scared, Carlotta. I’m scared I’ll fail — fail myself, and him. There’s so much to do. I’m overwhelmed.”

“There is quite a lot to do, yes. A daunting task. But you will not be alone; I’ll be with you every step of the way. My phone will be on 24/7 if you need to talk urgently, and you’ll be seeing me often. And I am encouraged that you’re scared to fail.”

“You are?”

“So long as it doesn’t paralyze you from attempting to succeed, that fear can be a tool. We will use it to spur you on, to keep trying even when you don’t feel like it.” She then squeezed the trans-girl in a full embrace.

Aubrey was still trembling, but was fully aware of the grace of her situation. And on top of it, Carlotta had referred to her as a female throughout — unconditional acceptance into the sorority of womanhood. She could not refuse this offer.

“Okay. I’m all in. Just hold me a minute more, please?”

“Of course.”

The young one cleared her throat. “Louie,” she said in a low drawl.

Carlotta raised an eyebrow. “Louie …?”

“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Aubrey stated in a faux Bogart impression.

*To be continued tomorrow*

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual situation or person is purely coincidental.

Thanks to Cassie Nicol for a first look!

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