CHAPTER 2 - Into the Lion’s Den

He wore a blazer with their company emblem embroidered on the breast pocket that his boss Mr. Brown insisted he wear while traveling as a company rep. He caught the Aero Mexico 10:15 flight to Mexico City, seated in a middle seat in economy at the rear of the plane. He was met at baggage claim by a Hispanic man holding up a handwritten sign with ‘Trousdale’ on it. He was driven to his hotel. Nothing fancy, it was clean and had WIFI. He checked in and was immediately taken by his driver to the corporate offices. The company he was working with was a U.S. firm that had been outsourced to Mexico. Their books were in shambles and George had to put in three very long days to get them into shape. He returned to his room at night and only had time to email Ellen. His cell phone didn't have service to the states. Ellen's daily replies were curt, simply outlining the progress she was making in getting her new company up and running.

Finally, it was time to go home. He emailed his flight information to his wife hoping she would meet him at the airport. He got an immediate response. Her reply merely said that she was busy with a late-night meeting and he should Uber his way home.

He insisted on getting to the airport several hours early. The airport in Mexico City was at a high altitude so there was a chill in the air. He was glad he was wearing the coat with the company logo. He wandered through the duty-free shops, just browsing. He picked up a couple of souvenirs for Ellen and his sister. His carry-on was full with his dirty clothes so he carried the trinkets in a shopping bag and found his gate and sat down to wait.

A man took a seat next to him and struck up a conversation with him. George was naturally an introvert, but he was glad for the company as it helped to pass the time. His flight was called, so he and his new friend standing right behind him joined the line for the final security check. He opened his carryon for inspection then handed his souvenir bag to the guard, who after a cursory inspection spoke briefly into a hand-held microphone. Suddenly, George found himself gripped by two policemen and dragged to a small locked room. He was questioned about a small religious ceramic statue of 'The Lady of Guadalupe' they found in his carryon bag, which as was explained to him was actually molded cocaine. He tried to tell them he had never seen it before. For Pete's sake he wasn't even Catholic, why would he buy a religious statue? They didn't believe him and he was cuffed and transported to a jail, where George Trousdale was booked and charged with attempted smuggling. His pleas to talk with someone from the American Embassy fell upon deaf ears.

@ @ @ @

That night Ellen didn't get home until nearly midnight. She was exhausted and was surprised to find the house empty. She just assumed her husband had flight issues, but there was no message on the answering machine. Knowing George, he probably got on the wrong flight and ended up in San Francisco instead of San Diego. She had an early appointment with a woman she was interviewing for the position as her assistant and that had priority in her mind. She went to bed thinking that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. She would worry about his whereabouts in the morning, after her meeting.

After a successful meeting followed by a delightful lunch with Nancy, Ellen thought about George. She called home first and got no answer. She then called his office extension and got an out of office recording. She shrugged it off and figured he probably left a message on the home phone. So many things could happen on international flights. She still wasn't concerned. She was sure everything would be alright.

It was another long day for Ellen and she didn't pull into her driveway until nearly seven that night. She hoped George was home and he had dinner waiting for her.

She was surprised to see a black Mercedes Bend parked at her curb. After pulling into the garage, she had just gotten inside when there was a knock on her front door. To her utter surprise, it was George's boss. In the past, when they had interacted, Leon made a point of doing some harmless flirtatious banter. The look on his face this time was way different.

Opening the door, Ellen said "Mr. Brown, what a surprise."

"May I come in? We need to talk."

"George isn't here. What do you want to talk about?"

"That fucked up husband of yours. He got arrested in Mexico for being a drug mule."

A flabbergasted Ellen screamed, "That can't be right!"

"Oh, it is, he is locked up in a Mexican jail as we speak."

"Oh, my lord, is he alright?"

"Who the fuck cares! He has ruined my company's reputation and could bring the law down on me. I don’t need that kind of scrutiny. He’s incompetent and couldn’t do the simplest thing without getting caught. I hope he rots in hell!"

Ellen did something that shocked both her and Leon she slapped him across the face with all her might, leaving a large red mark.

Give Leon credit: He recovered quickly and said, "I guess that means you won't be accepting my invitation to dinner. I have reservations at a romantic French restaurant."

"Damn it Leon! What's going to happen to my husband?"

"I heard from the embassy; they have arranged a public defender for him."

"Can I talk to him?"

"From what I hear he is being held incommunicado until his trial. Only his lawyer can talk to him. Our relationship with Mexico has been a little rocky recently and the embassy says they think the government is going to make an example of him. When you do talk to him, tell him he's fired."

@ @ @ @

Ellen tried daily to get some kind of information about George, but she heard nothing for almost two months, until she got a call from Estelle Johnson, an official in the state department.

Her message shook Ellen to the core. He had already had his trial; George's public defender had pleaded him guilty and he got 10 years in prison. She went on to explain that this was actually a good thing, if he had fought the charges and lost, George could have gotten 25 years.

After she got over the shock, Ellen asked "What happens now?" Estelle said, "The good news is that your husband is in a minimum-security prison. He can have visitors every Saturday. If he keeps out of trouble, after six months he can have conjugal visits."

She then gave Ellen the location and directions to the prison and told her it was located about two hours' train ride south from Tijuana. Due to the location, Ellen was strongly advised to take the train down and return the same day. Spending nights in that area was not advisable. Even the drug dealers slept elsewhere.

Estelle went on to explain to Ellen that, since George had pled guilty to attempted drug smuggling, the State Department was washing their hands of his case, he was persona non-grata as far as the U.S. government was concerned. She was sorry, but Ellen was now on her own.

Ellen was at first angry at her husband for getting involved in this thing. It took Ellen several weeks to decide there had to be a logical explanation and work up the nerve to make the trip to find out for herself. Many of her friends had abandoned her once word got out that George was a drug smuggler. Just a few close friends stuck by her.

She missed going out and having fun. On the one hand, she loved being independent and in charge of her own life. Yet she missed having George around. She was going to have to do something about it. Starting with visiting her husband.

She had two years of high school Spanish, 14 long years ago, she only remembered a few words. Feeling like the intrepid Henry Morton Stanley, she, went off in search of her Livingston.

She took the San Diego trolley to the border, crossed on foot and took a taxi to the train station. She found an open seat to herself and sat with a death grip on her purse. Anticipating to be robbed at any moment. Surprisingly, the train was clean and the trip was uneventful. She got off at her stop and took a cab to just outside the prison gates about 10:30 AM. That first morning arriving at the prison was a rude awakening. The gates opened at noon and a large crowd of woman had gathered at the gate by 11. She stood at the rear of the throng. She had been told all the woman were required to be out by 2 PM unless they had a numbered conjugal pass which permitted them to stay until 5 PM.

When the gates opened, it was like the start of the Indy 500, half of the woman rushed off to a guard house where they were logged in and they identified the prisoner they were to see. They were randomly searched by female guards and then ushered into a central courtyard where their men were waiting for them. The other half rushed an elevated guard station. After a brief frisk, each woman was given a wooden tag with a number on it. Those lucky few headed for the cellblocks.

Entering the dusty courtyard, Ellen took up a position off to the side where she could survey the mass of humanity spread out before her. She didn't recognize her husband at first, he was standing off to the side under the shade of a guard tower. Ellen hurried over to him, shocked by his appearance. He had lost a lot of weight, obviously hadn't had a haircut, and wore dirty prison clothes that hung on his emaciated body. He looked rather frail.

Ellen was afraid to embrace him; she might hurt him. She gave him a peck on the lips and said, "George, aren't you eating? You don't look healthy."

George shrugged lethargically, he had little energy these days.

"I eat what they give me. We get nothing but refried beans and tortillas, if we are lucky, they throw in a little chicken at evening meals."

A scandalized Ellen said, "Maybe I can bring you something next time."

It had been months since he had even heard from Ellen. He knew that it was very challenging to get communications in prison. Even when the State Department had been trying to help him, it had been difficult. But the lack of communication from her, except early on for an occasional message relayed to him through his lawyer, made him feel like she had abandoned him.

He smiled, thinking fondly of the fast food that was available on every street corner on the other side of the border.

"I would love a cheeseburger. But visitors are not allowed to bring food into this place."

Ellen thought about alternatives, "If nothing else I will smuggle in some vitamins to keep you healthy."

He smiled at her again. "That would be nice. So, you are coming back?" His voice was hopeful.

"Of course! You silly goose. You are my Ducky and I will be here every chance I get. I'm sorry that I couldn't be here for you sooner. The State Department advised me to let them handle everything, which was a major mistake. Promise me to take care of yourself."

They wandered off to a nearby bench and sat facing each other and just talked. George needed little prompting to relate the events that led up to his incarceration. He described the guy in the airport who he was sure had set him up. They both agreed that it was unlikely they would ever see him again. Ellen promised she would look into getting a local lawyer to see if there was anything that could be done about his case. At 2 o’clock a bell sounded. All the women headed for the gate. She hated to leave him but had no choice. Her trip home was depressing. Once there, she called Beth and filled her in on all the details.

@ @ @ @

Ellen returned the next weekend feeling more self-assured now that she had the routine down. She made a point of bringing a bottle of vitamins in her purse. Her search uncovered them; they were immediately confiscated. Her name was taken down and she was warned not to try it again.

She learned her lesson, from then on out, she made a point of bringing women's Ultra Mega Multivitamins only, which were explained away by claiming that they were her medicine. That and a friendly smile at the guard ensured safe passage.

It was a long six months of weekly visits limited to the prison yard. Fortunately, she had her thriving business to take her mind off things, that a new-found fervor for working out at the local gym. Finally, the day arrived where they could be alone in his cell. She took the Friday before off and spent it at a spa. She wanted this to be special. She was more excited than on her wedding day. Since she had lost her virginity on prom night. Sex had been the one constant in her life. This was the longest period she had gone without sex with her husband, since their wedding.

@ @ @ @

After checking in, she was told his cell number. It took a little while; but eventually she found his cell. She paused outside, trying to get her nerves under control and took several deep breaths. On the other side of the door she heard movement. She knocked and was rewarded with a familiar voice, "Come in."

She stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Then waited until her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. Ellen wasn't prepared for what she found. Rather than a stark cell with bars on the windows and a straw mattress. She found a neat little cubicle. It had a worn wooden floor and bars on the window; but inexplicitly it had a cot with a mattress, a toilet, wash basin and a metal mirror, that was so high it must have been installed by a giant. She looked at her husband for an explanation.

"What do you think Ellen? I have been a model prisoner and volunteered to do the prison books. To tell the truth I am kind of the warden’s prize prisoner."

Ellen thought wryly, 'I bet he was always the teacher's pet growing up.'

"Because of my work for the warden, I have earned upgraded living conditions. I moved in about ten days ago."

"I have been cleaning for days. I hope it is alright and doesn’t disgust you."

In response, she ripped off her clothes as fast as she could. George was in awe at what he saw. Her deep colored areolas and their taught nipples seized his attention. Ellen had always been a beautiful woman in his eyes and way out of his league. But the creature that stood before him now looked more like a statue of Aphrodite. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. All he could do was stare as she literally took his breath away. He finally got out the words out, "Oh my gawd Ellen I have never seen you looking better."

Ellen smiled at the compliment and felt all gooey inside then posed briefly for him before replying, "I take it you like what you see. It has been a lot of hard work to sculpt my body. I have a private trainer that has been taking me through all manner of exercises."

She watched as George’s manhood began to come to life and tented out the front of his prison chinos. Pointing to his crotch she asked, "Before we get started let me ask you. How have you been handling your sexual urges?"

Flustered George answered, "I masturbate at night before going to bed thinking about you."

Her lips curled as she grinned mischievously. Ellen took two steps in his direction and glibly said, "I've got something a bit different in mind for you this afternoon, love.

"Enough with the chit chat. Now it's your turn. I showed you mine now I want to see yours. Strip and let me see my husband."

George was embarrassed by his appearance. He shrugged off his clothes and reflexively a forearm and a hand were strategically placed to provide him with a minimum of modesty. He waited for Ellen’s rejection.

Ellen fought to keep the shock out of her face. He had lost so much weight that Ellen was sure she could count his ribs. What stood before her was a vulnerable, self-doubting man. She was going to show him he was still a he-man to her.

She rushed to him, tackling him and knocking him to the bed, intending to make mad passionate love to him.

After the briefest of foreplay George was ready to go. There was not going to be any missionary position this time. It was going to be the way she wanted it. Ellen straddled him and impaled herself on him. She rode him delighting in the pleasure of making love to the man she loved. She could feel that George was about to burst, so she tightened around his shaft as forcefully as she could, so when, at last, he came with a fury, she was able to squeeze and feel the full impact of his orgasm. She didn't have an orgasm herself, but felt a sense of power and release she'd never felt before with this man.

Understandably after months of celibacy, poor George hadn’t lasted very long, he was disappointed. His penis quickly deflated and slipped out of her. Once he had recovered sufficiently to catch his breath, he immediately started to apologize. Ellen wasn't having any of it and held him tight. He eventually wrestled free and did something he had never done before. He slithered off the cot and got on his knees at the foot of the bed, and started to lick his way up her legs and thighs. He was tentative at first, kissing his way closer and closer to her opening while Ellen shivered with anticipation. When, at last, his tongue eventually slipped through the folds of her vaginal lips, Ellen's moans were encouraging. He became more aggressive, sliding his tongue in deeper and deeper, till she gripped his head with both of her hands, and kept his mouth at her honey pot. He had never performed oral sex on his wife before. He was determined to make up for lost time. He worked his magic on her and listened for verbal clues to determine what he was doing right. Ultimately, Ellen had an orgasm.

Suddenly, she didn't care if George's atrophied babymaker didn't do anything for her. This new technique produced a grander orgasm than 90% of her previous sexual encounters. She thought to herself ‘she could become accustomed to this.’

When he came up for air she had to ask, "Where did you learn to do that? I have had guys perform oral sex on me, but never with that kind of enthusiasm."

"I've had six months to think of nothing else. I wanted to find a way to repay you for sticking with me. I hope I did alright. Since it was my first time, I'm open to constructive criticism. Just tell me what you want I’ll be better next time, I promise."

She hugged him tightly and said, "Honey, that was fantastic. If it gets any better, I’ll never be able to walk again. Right now, my legs are like rubber. Let me ask do you enjoy doing that or are you just doing it for me?"

George looked down somewhat shyly and replied, "Ellen, this isn't a very manly thing to say, I truly loved it. Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure."

Ellen said with a fond smile, "How about next time I reciprocate while you do me. There isn't much room on this cot but we can make it work."

George remained firm. He answered with a shake of his head, "That is sweet of you to offer, but I think not."

Ellen was flabbergasted, no man had ever turned down her offer of oral sex. She had always thought 69 was every man’s fantasy, right up there with a threesome.

He held up his hand to forestall any argument. "Let me explain, I now view your pleasure as more important than mine. If we did 69, it might distract me from giving you my best effort."

Ellen's smile could not get any larger. "George, you are truly one of a kind. I love you so very much. Now get into bed so we can cuddle."

@ @ @ @

Before leaving, Ellen gave George one mandate. If he wanted her to return for more conjugal visits, he had to exercise. Explaining it would improve his stamina and general heath. George quickly agreed with her. He promised to do what he could.

He was the only American in the prison. He wasn't put into solitary confinement, but the authorities strongly recommended that he limit his exposure with the general population. He voluntarily stayed in his cell except for meals when there were extra guards on duty. He avoided the communal showers electing to bath from his sink. His cell wasn't very large so he was restricted to a workout consisting mostly of pacing the cell in addition to squats and lunges, he had never had much upper body strength after one failed attempt where he couldn’t get his chest off the floor, he skipped doing pushups. Other than taking care of the books a few times a month, he had nothing else to do during the day so he would work out until he was exhausted. Over time doing the exercises he could tell his stamina was improving.

Within weeks, Ellen saw the results of his exercises, which were spectacular. He continued to lose body fat and muscle tone in everywhere but his legs and buttocks. After a couple of months, his general manly physique appeared to be morphing into a softer more feminine form. Thankfully she rationalized that anyone studying his arms would know there was enough definition for them to belong to a male. On close inspection, there were other clues like his Adams apple that could gave him away but without too much scrutiny most people would think they were looking at an emaciated woman when they saw him. He was now so light Ellen could easily lift him in her arms. His thighs were more defined and slimmer than Ellen’s, surprisingly, his chest appeared to retain its original dimensions. He hadn’t mentioned it; but she assumed he must be doing push-ups, to build up his pectoral muscles. His butt became cute, high, tight, and firm. His booty made Ellen jealous.

Each visit was similar after their initial bout of coitus, he put the time to good use while he was recuperating. He would pleasure Ellen with his mouth and fingers. He made it a point to stay there long enough where he could get it up again. It wasn’t always that firm the second time but it was good enough to get the job done. During his second go around, he would mount Ellen and could last long enough to bring both to satisfaction. To Ellen’s surprise after conventional sex, Ducky insisted he be allowed to worship at Ellen’s womanly altar and bring her to several more orgasms. That was a first for her. None of her previous lovers had done anything like that. It made her love him even more.

Ironically, their sex life was once again a weekly Saturday event. Yet, it was more gratifying then anything she ever experienced in her married life.

@ @ @ @

During their weekly visits, they both avoided discussions about the future. They were just living in the moment.

During the weeks and months, Ellen's business had really taken off and the money was rolling in. Nancy was doing a fantastic job and took charge when Ellen was away. Nancy had become more than an employee, she was now a friend, almost a sister.

Ellen had exhausted every legal avenue to get her husband home. Out of desperation, during her time at home Ellen spent a lot of time on internet searches looking for someone who could break her husband out of jail. She even went so far as to interview a number of 'soldiers of fortune' but determined they were all blowhards. If anyone was going to get George out, she would have to do it herself. She spent every spare moment working on a plan.

After a great deal of thought and observation she ascertained the jail's weakness was the mujer's mad dash at 5 PM. The guards appeared to be overwhelmed as dozens of women rushed to get out of the main gate all at the same time. As long as the total numbers agreed, and everyone was accounted for, no one seemed to care. A plan was beginning to come to Ellen. The hard part would be to get George to agree. If they were caught, the consequences would be disastrous for them both. Ellen knew one thing about herself. If she put her mind to something, nothing could stop her from making it happen. George was in for a wild ride. It was going to be exhilarating, breaking him out of jail. She talked to her personal trainer an ex-Navy Seal for suggestions. After their work outs the two spent many an hour in hushed discussions.

Ellen planted the seed on her next visit when she effortlessly picked George up in her arms and carried him across the cell to the bed. She laid him down and began to remove his shirt, pants and sandals. George began to protest and sit up, but his wife simply pressed on his chest to lay him back down and carefully touched his lips with her finger. "Shhhh. Just let me, OK?" Ellen resumed her activities and George lay back and closed his eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of being taken advantage of.

George was a bit awestruck and emasculated by how easily Ellen had been able to pick him up like a ragdoll. All he could ask was, "How can you do that?"

Ellen shrugged and smiled. She was rather proud of her new buff physique. She had worked hard at increasing her core strength.

"Oh, that's nothing. With you not being around, I wanted to get my old body back. I have most evenings free so I have become a gym rat, I go almost every day." Ellen got this starry-eyed look on her face and said, "There is this hunky guy Derrick, an ex-Navy Seal, who volunteered to be my personal trainer. After putting me through a daily strenuous aerobic workout, he has me doing some serious weight training."

George wasn’t happy about his wife spending time with a musclebound ex-Seal, but he had to trust his wife. After all what choice did he have? So, he swallowed his jealousy and devoted himself to pleasing his wife.

During their weekly trysts, they had some of the best sex of their married lives. It was routinely common for both to come with a heat and passion that neither had experienced before in their married life. For George, absence did more than make the heart grow fonder.

Finally, Ellen decided it was time to bring up the idea of breaking George out of jail. As they both sat on the cot, she held his hands and cautiously broached the subject. "Honey, these weekly interludes are nice. But they aren’t enough for me. We need to find a way to get you out of here."

The issues of crossdressing or basically anything that could be thought of as kinky or out of the mainstream was definitely taboo in their house. Since the concept was so alien to her husband, she knew she might have a fight on her hands. She proceeded cautiously to lay out the basics of her plan. What she had to say shook George to his very core.

Ellen’s plan called for George to dress as a woman and simply walk out the front gate with the other ladies. Then, together, they would go to the train station and ride it to the border.

Before he could object, she pointed out that the way his body was withering away, that there was no chance he would survive to serve out his sentence. George was aghast at the idea, he sighed and looked heavenward. "Ellen, let’s get real. There is no way, anyone would mistake me for a woman!"

"That is where I can help. Wait till I finish before you pass judgment on yourself. Postpone your decision until you see the finished product. There is no way I will let you be a mockery. You will be 100% believable or we will call it off. If, at the last minute, you have any doubts all bets will be off. Is that fair?"

Ellen explained her plan in detail. He had to grudgingly admit it had the possibility of success if Ellen could come through with her promise to make him presentable as a woman.

George looked for weak points, but Ellen had an answer for every objection. Like how would he get across the border. Ellen explained how she would borrow his twin sister's passport to get him through immigration. "We won't bring any luggage; we have enough clothes at home. As two women, we'll only carry our purses and tell the guards we had been on a one-day shopping spree. We should breeze through customs. Once in the States, we will simply drive home and resume our lives. I can’t believe our local cops would be concerned about you."

The eloquence of her argument rang true, despite the gut wrenching fear it entailed. George knew when he was losing the battle, so he just acquiesced knowing the outcome was inevitable.

"Alright you win. I'll put on a stupid dress and join the evening exodus and we can go home. Easy peasy."

@ @ @ @

Ellen bolted upright, "Not so fast buster," Ellen said, holding up a hand. "There is a lot more to it than that. Now I don't care how much you look like a woman. If you don't walk, sit, move or speak like a woman people might be able to see right through your disguise. At the very least they will think that something is wrong."

"You have to walk the length of the prison yard in a feminine gait, your appearance has to be convincing enough to fool the guard into thinking you are a woman. Then you will have to find me, and together we will go to the train station. Where a convincing woman and I will have a two-hour train ride. Then you will have to get past an alert U.S. immigration agent. All the while conducting yourself as an authentic female. That is going to take a lot of hard work."

"I can get you into the disguise but that is only a façade. We have to assume that the police officers watching for escapees are not dumb or blind. Their perceptions of you will be professional and will determine our ultimate success. Your movements, mannerisms, body language, and physical appearance, must be perfect and will decide if this plan works or not."

"The first thing we have to do is to find you a new feminine name. How about I pick one for you?"

George shrugged his shoulders in indifference and replied, "Whatever."

"Super, from now on I am only going to call you Heather. That way it will be second nature and you will learn to respond to it. The last thing we want is someone to call out George and have you responded. Don’t you agree, Heather?"

"I see your logic, but why Heather?"

"Two reasons, it's a common girl's name, and is nothing like your masculine name. So, anyone trying to track you down using your name won't be given any help. More importantly, I think it is pretty. Is that enough reason for you?"

What Ellen wasn’t going to reveal was Heather was the name of an old roommate. Her only girl on girl sex was with her. She felt that using Heather’s name was a bit of a tribute to her friend.

"Yes dear, whatever you say," George replied meekly.

@ @ @ @

"Ducky, it won’t matter how attractive you look. If you move like a man, you'll give yourself away. Let's start with your walk. That will be the most important characteristic to help get you out the front gate."

Ellen knew her husband was not a transvestite and that teaching her husband to move like a woman would be a challenge as he would probably fight her at every turn, but she was willing to work as hard as necessary to save him. After all, the clock was ticking.

She took off her sandals with their wedge heels and her dress and had Heather put them on. She helped him into her dress and marveled at how well it fit him. She felt defeminized realizing her husband and her wore the same shoe and dress size. Ellen sighed and reassured herself with the thought ‘At least he can’t fit into my bra.’ Then she tried to explain to him the differences between how a man and a woman walk. It immediately became apparent that teaching something that needed to be instinctive to a novice was a real challenge. She watched him struggle with her shoes, she was concerned that Heather was not comfortable in those low heels. Why they are only the training model for novices how will he handle grown up shoes?

She wanted to encourage him so she lied, "For your first time in heels that is very good." He found myself unexpectedly pleased with this little compliment.

She tried. "Heather, from this point on, after our booty call, the rest of every visit will have to be spent on deportment training. From the way, you are physically deteriorating I have only a short time to teach you what every woman learns at her mother's knee growing up."

"Now you are dressed like one, Heather, walk like a woman for me."

George tried to visualize how a woman would walk. He searched his memory for how a woman walked that was different from his normal gate. The only distinctive walk he managed to recall was how the stripper strutted on the stage one time he was in a gentleman’s club. He sashayed across the small cell, flouncing as best as he could. His efforts reminded him of the first time he tried riding a bike without training wheels and was just as successful except this time he didn’t skin his knee. Ellen sat on the bed Indian style with her ankles crossed and watched. She tried her hardest not to laugh but failed miserably.

Confused, George looked at her, "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, if you want to come across as a gay vaquero who had just been fucked in the ass by his male lover," she replied with one of her infectious giggles. "George honey, I could slather on enough makeup on you to where you wouldn’t be recognizable. Then decorate you with enough cheap garish jewelry to embarrasses a campy female impersonator. That is not what we are going for. You want to blend in as one of the local women. A wife or girlfriend, not stand out as a flaming Mexican drag queen. This is going to be harder than I thought. A dress and wig will be a good start. I am not sure what can be done about your face. It is a little square and your nose a smidgen too large for a woman. I will see what I can do with makeup." She sighed heavily, "We have a lot of work to get you ready. I pray you are willing to make the commitment needed to get you out of here."

She surreptitiously crossed her fingers and finished her thought. "We will get there. I promise."

Ellen thought for a few minutes trying to decide how to proceed. Resorting to teacher mode she opined, "Heather, women have wider hips. So, their hips tend to sway. Try placing one foot in front of the other as this will tend to exaggerate the movement of your hips. Walking for men is utilitarian. Their purpose is to get from place to place. Women tend to move more gracefully, swinging their hips and taking shorter graceful steps. Try to imagine you are gliding and not walking. Their legs rarely go very far apart, even when walking swiftly. Now try again with that in mind."

George took in everything Ellen told him. On his next try, he eliminated the exaggerated campy walk and tried to just concentrate on his stride and hip movements and made some progress.

This time in earnest. She clapped in encouragement and had him make several more laps around his cell.

Finally, she stopped him and with pride said, "That’s a lot better, but listen to me. Walk with your chin up, shoulders back, chest out, abs tight, pelvis forward, and buttocks tight. It will make a world of difference."

Ellen wearing just her underwear because he had her clothes on, stood next to him and demonstrated how she wanted him to walk. Together they crossed his cell several times.

George tried to take it all in wishing he could be taking notes.

After an hour of non-stop practice, he was starting to get it. He was rewarded by Ellen pulling him onto the bed and they made love one more time. Ellen mounted him and road him like a stallion. It was an exhilarating ride. The timing was perfect as they managed to cross the finish line in a dead heat. She started to get off him, "Did you like that?" she asked, leaning over to kiss his sweaty mouth.

"What do you think?" He smiled.

Ellen had a huge grin on her face. "I know that was different, I thought you'd like it with me being on top and more dominant. I had fun, it’s something we should add to our bedroom repertoire. Don’t you agree?"

His response was in the form of slithering down to where he could gain access to her love canal with his mouth. She didn’t resist when she realized what he had in mind. She sat on his face and got lost in the nirvana of his love. Fifteen minutes and two more climaxes later she was too sensitive down there. She rolled off and announced, "That was great now we have to get back to work. We only have a few more minutes, let’s put it to good use."

After the love session, the tutorial continued for the remainder of their allotted time. "Now when you stride, place each foot directly in front of the other leg, the way a cat does. The majority of weight shifts should occur near your center of gravity, which is between your thighs and belly button. Aim for your footprints to form a single line as if you are walking on tightrope. This motion dictates the extent to which your hips and arms swing. Keep your head and shoulders relatively still as your body moves and try to appear as though you are walking into the wind to push your shoulders back and force your pelvis to lead you forward."

"I never realized there was so much involved in just walking," said a dejected George.

Ellen again took him in her arms and held him whispering encouragements into his ear.

George took in everything like a sponge and after another 30 minutes of non-stop practice was starting to get it. He was rewarded by Ellen pulling him onto the bed and hugging him so tight George had trouble breathing.

The time arrived for Ellen to be going. She went to her purse and handed Ducky his next bottle of vitamins, after taking one, he hid the rest in his mattress. At the door, she left him with more advice, "I’ve had some time to think about it. I once took a modeling class. I can visualize how I was taught to walk. Women tend to take shorter strides then men, with less shoulder movement and keep their legs closer together. This results in less side to side movement and more up and down bobbing. At first, you may feel that you are leaning back a little and you should be able to feel pressure and length in the small of your back."

George frowned, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Nothing comes easy. We succeed only through hard work and repetition. I have given you the basics, now you need to convert that knowledge into muscle memory, so you don't have to think about it. Next week I expect to see a very different walk from you. Perhaps I'll bring some high heels as a teaching aid."

The thought of wearing high heels frightened George. The last thing he needed was to explain to the prison authorities how he broke an ankle. He spoke up and said with some trepidation, "Ellen, I don't think that is necessary. I’ll work on what you've told me."

"We'll see lover, who knows what the future has in store for us."

@ @ @ @

Over the next week, waiting for Ellen’s return was hell. Every night he had nightmares about being caught in a feminine disguise and being gang raped by the population of inmates while the guards looked on with total indifference. Aside from his daily exercises, George spent every waking moment trying to replicate the walk his wife wanted of him.

Ellen was always a joker, so just for fun and trying to loosen up George that Saturday she came prepared, she handed him a pair of pink high cut leg panties made of slinky nylon and with a wide lace waistband and small rows of lace around the leg openings. "Here! See how this fits lover boy," she teased.

Ellen handed him the panties. "Err....Ellen. You can’t be serious!" Then he asked. "Don't you have any that aren’t so....so....so sexy looking? I mean for Pete’s sake, pink lace!"

"Golly George. I'm sorry that the style doesn't suit you," she mocked. "I didn't realize you were so picky about the panties you wore."

He hesitated for a second but as she gave him the ‘Look’ and he quickly pulled the little panties up his legs and into place!

Needless to say, the panties did little to reduce the womanly look of his legs, but any sexual arousals that he might have experienced were more than compensated for by the pure terror that coursed through him as his wife watched him put on the most feminine item of clothing he had seen in months. Rather than get hard, his penis seemed to withdraw into his body.

There was no way out other than this. He knew it. If he was discovered, there was no question he was dead meat. He took a deep breath and had to trust Ellen and endure. For a man, who had always struggled to establish his masculinity, this was the ultimate humiliation.

"These or something like them are what you will wear whenever I am here."

"Why?"

"They will make you feel more feminine."

George protested to Ellen, saying that the changes she was making to his appearance were too drastic.

She explained that this was exactly what she wanted; it was crucial that no one in the prison during the breakout perceive him as a male, so he had to not only look the part but must act as feminine as possible.

She sat him down and lectured him. "Heather, femininity is all about subtlety. To pull this off without us getting caught, you must completely immerse yourself in the feminine mindset! If you can teach yourself to believe you are actually a woman; appropriate ladylike reactions, gestures and posture will become second nature. That way, if some crisis arises your reactions will be instinctive rather than unnaturally thought out. Like what would you do if someone grabbed your purse on the way out. George’s instinct would be to fight. Heather’s should be to cry out for help. Can you see what I am getting at?"

The implications to what she was saying threatened his very manhood. But the logic of it all made sense and he promised he would try.

@ @ @ @
Ellen went home and tried to develop lesson plans to turn her husband's mannerisms into those of a believable woman. Aside from his walk, how he carried himself would be the surest way to carry off this caper.

Surprisingly, she found the best advice on such matters on transvestite sites and blogs. She went back the next week armed with this new insight.

She knocked on the door and pushed it open and stepped inside.

Once the cell door was closed, Ellen paused at the door and then did a sexy striptease for her husband.

George was speechless at what he saw. Ellen noticed his appreciation and quipped, "Like what you see honey, is there any question I am all woman? Maybe exotic dancing should be incorporated into your training."

She then demanded he strip for her. She leaned against the wall and watched while she hummed a little Gypsy Rose Lee ditty to encourage his performance. When he had disrobed, Ellen was again taken back by his lack of body mass. She even suspected his standard size male package was a little smaller, but no matter that was no longer his best sexual attribute. She had come to realize that good sex is less about genitalia and more about the way you feel when you're together.

Their love making that day was a repeat of the previous weeks. Intercourse was nice but to her it was just the overture for the main event. As far as Ellen was concerned George's oral performances kept getting better. Surprisingly over the past several weeks when she was home and masturbating it was now cunnilingus that filled her fantasies and not a big fat cock as had been her want.

Once she had recovered from her post orgasmic bliss, they got back to work teaching George to present as a believable woman.

Ellen assumed her school teacher persona, "Let's see what you have mastered. Walk for me. In your head pretend you are a woman on the prowl for a mate. Think of yourself as a tease. Make it as sexy as you can, remember you want any guy watching to be aroused by your grace."

"Now wait a minute Ellen, I have no intention of ever attracting a man!"

Ellen gave a little lopsided grin then went on, "I understand George is a straight as an arrow and has no sexual interest in men. I am not talking to George. This message is for Heather. If you think as a woman it will translate into your overall performance. There is so much I want her to experience."

"Ellen, you are scaring me."

Ellen responded with a teasing smile. "Enough of that let's get back to work, Heather strut your stuff for me."

He did as he was asked and Ellen continued to critique him.

George listened like his life depended on it. He spent an hour parading around his cell under the watchful eye of Ellen. After a short rest break, they were back at it.

Every week, Ellen would introduce shoes with a little higher heel. It was so gradual that poor George never realized it. She stopped when he became comfortable in three-inch heels. Ellen noticed the added height improved his walk. There and then she decided he would walk out the gate wearing high heels.

She felt smug about her little deception but had to get back to work as she harangued, "There are a hundred different ways a female acts and re-acts differently than a male. The way she carries herself; the way she stands; the way she talks and gestures. Everything about a woman is 'different' from a man."

George responded, "Well Da!"

She explained that he couldn't carry off such a masquerade without more practice. Most of every visit was spent with George in Ellen's dress and shoes pacing back and forth in his small cell. She worked heavily on his feminine mannerisms such things as his hand’s placement and movement. His walks were now accompanied by him carrying a purse.

A flood of do's and don'ts poured from her mouth. George was getting discouraged. "My lord Ellen, that is a lot to get my head around!"

Ellen, gave him one of her world class smiles, "I know that is why we are working on this almost nonstop. When you are here by yourself, I expect you to do homework. So, every week we can move on to something new."

"Of course, dear, I understand the importance of all this."

@ @ @ @

It had only been a few extra weeks; Ellen was now confident his walk would pass all but the closest scrutiny.

After another work session, Ellen took a break and was stretched out on the cot with nothing on, having Heather wearing even her underwear. She watched her hubby and thought, 'With his longer hair, all it will take is a little padding in the right places and some makeup, he will be believable, we are almost there!'

She didn't know what it was about Heather. Perhaps it was the week-long forced celibacy or the eating of the forbidden fruit of lesbianism. But the fact that her hubby was prancing around dressed like a woman generated a lust in her that she hadn't felt in years. That was an issue she would have to take up with a shrink later. All she knew now was that oral sex relieved George of the pressure of having to perform as a man and provided her with multiple orgasms, something conventional sex with him never did.

Heather was worshiping her body one more time, he was currently feasting the nectar between her legs. She maneuvered around and took him into her mouth where she remained for a long time. This was her preferred method of lovemaking, both parties getting pleasure. After another glorious sexual encounter, Ellen announced they were moving on.

George groaned. Ellen smiled encouragingly and said, "Relax sweetheart, this will be a piece of cake, I am going to teach you how to sit."

"Great! I've been sitting since I was a toddler."

"WRONG!" screeched Ellen. "George has been sitting for years, not Heather. We have to break you of all those nasty boy mannerisms. Heather is going to learn to sit gracefully like a lady, not plop down like a drunk-on a bar stool."

George with Ellen’s juices still on his lips smiled and responded, "That's fine with me as long as she is a lady with lesbian tendencies."

Ellen tittered at the little repartee and came back with, "That issue was never in doubt. I don’t think I can survive without Heather, my lezzie paramour."

Ellen thought, ‘Heather is a welcome respite from those manly types with their monster merrymakers I have been involved with my entire life. They are only interested in their pleasure. Compared to Heather that puts my needs first.’

Ellen spread her legs and said, "Now come over here and remind me why I keep my lesbian lover around."

After a not so brief interlude, school was back in session.

She stood and started, "Sitting 101 darling. We shall begin with the basics. I will demonstrate."

"Heather, a lady starts by standing as close to the chair as she can with her calves touching the chair. She keeps her knees together, and eases down gently. Never flopping. She does not bend forward as she keeps her torso straight. George, you need to learn that sitting and crouching are both art-forms that have to be learned and constantly practiced.”

Ellen demonstrated and sat on the bed. She patted the space next to her on the cot inviting him to sit there. “Got that Heather? By keeping your knees together and sitting down smoothly by bending your knees. You can smooth your skirt under you as you reach the chair. Sit up straight. Do not lean back into your chair. Now give that a go."

George tried and almost succeeded. Ellen commented, "Alright not too bad at all. Try it again. Only this time, try to not to use your hands for balance. Keep your arms either straight down or slightly bent at the elbow."

Ellen demonstrated, "Once seated, maintain a firm posture, cross your feet at the ankles. Place your hands in your lap, palms down. Rest them just above your thigh. When crossing your ankles, be sure to do so with your knees still together. There should be no space between your ankles. We will work up to the more provocative crossing your legs one over the other at the knee. Let's keep it simple for now."

She kept up a running commentary about the way he sat. His posture, and the position of his knees. She lectured, "Keep your knees together or cross your legs so that people - or more specifically men - don't look up your skirt to see what underwear you have on!"

He tried to cross his legs the way he had seen his wife do a thousand times. He complained that it was difficult and uncomfortable to cross his legs whilst his balls were crushed up in my groin.

Ellen ignored that comment and decided to kick that can down the street to be dealt with later.

George tried again and commented, "It feels awkward."

"I understand. In time, it will become second nature. Work on this during the week. I bet by my next visit it will be ingrained into your subconscious."

"My lord Ellen this is so different!"

"Nobody said it would be easy. When you are here alone. I expect you to do the assignments I give you. That way, every week we can move on to something new."

George bent over to pick up his shoes as the session ended. Ellen suddenly became agitated. "That is not how a young lady bends over, your skirt rides up and your panties show!" she barked.

"Have you ever seen any woman bend over at the waist. No of course not. You need to bend with your knees and squat. Like this." She stood and demonstrated. After she showed him, he was made to do it over and over again. George cataloged it as another trait he was required to add to his feminine repertoire and solemnly promised to practice it till it became second nature.

This he picked up easily.

@ @ @ @

The next week they tried to work on him talking like a woman. This proved to be a sticking point.

They first tried George with a falsetto he merely managed to sound like Minnie Mouse. All that did was give Ellen the giggles. "Oh, dear me," she said. "We don't have the time or expertise for elocution lessons."

They tried everything they could think of. When he tried to imitate the voice of a woman, he raised his voices to a higher pitch. In the end, he only sounded like a man trying to imitate a woman. He just couldn't seem to get it to an acceptable level.

"I’m sorry Ellen I can’t do this. Have any ideas?"

With an enigmatic smile on her lips, Ellen slipped up next to her husband and lightly placed her hand on his privates as she purred into his ear, "Dear, this is critical if you are stopped and questioned. If you can’t sound more convincing, we may have to resort to gelding you!"

George flinched and snapped, "That’s not funny!"

"I wasn’t trying to be comical; this is deadly serious. Now let’s run it one more time. This time try to focus your voice up in your throat instead of deep down. Put your hand on your upper chest, when you speak normally, as a man you will feel a slight vibration. Find a range where there is no tremor."

Eventually, Ellen decided it was a hopeless situation. Even if he could sound like a convincing woman, he could never carry on a normal conversation as he knew almost no Spanish. If he got the tenor of his voice in the womanly range, his gringo accent would be a dead giveaway. The best bet was to make Heather a mute.

Their only success came when George talked more slowly and used a soft breathy voice. Ellen rationalized that, by sticking to a few Spanish words and phrases, he could possibly get by. She mentally created a checklist. She came up with a short list of phrases that might do. Like ‘my: name is’, ‘hello’, ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and the two most important ones a woman must know in every language. ‘where is the bathroom?’ And lastly, ‘how much is it?’ They worked on those phrases every visit until Ellen was confident, he could get by in an emergency. She taught him to understand a little Spanish, such as; "This way please, show me your papers, and what is your name?"

Ellen’s Spanish had improved with her frequent trips south of the border. She wasn't fluent by any stretch of the imagination, but could navigate and even order from a menu when needed.