Mila slept in a satin nighty and panties that night but she was untucked of course. There was no sign of Peter Randal and she had the apartment to herself. She had practiced her makeup for a while and walking in heels and then after a light dinner she retired. She had tried on her sister’s clothes and divided them into two piles, those which fit her and suited her and those that didn’t.

Peter had left her some homework, the covenant and tenets of the Church of the Sons of Jehovah. The SOJ was headed up by the very Reverend Ronald Hayes whose great grandfather had formed his church in the nineteen thirties by uniting disgruntled members of evangelical and other right wing Christian churches and bringing them together under the auspices of the Sons of Jehovah in the town of Redhaven Wyoming.

Hayes believed that according to the Christian bible, wives are expected to be submissive in many ways. They are asked not only to be submissive to their husbands but to the church, their community, and God. He preached that at the head of every household is a man and the head of every woman is a man. Wives are seen as second in the family household, and subservient to god and their husbands.

The first Reverend Hayes was already wealthy in his own right when he formed the church and he divided his church into three Orders. The Acolytes were the lowest Order and were the church’s worker bees. They still had a good standard of living and they worked for businesses owned and controlled by the church. The second Order was the Patriarchs who were middle order elder statesmen and held managerial positions in the church’s businesses. The Apostles were the hierarchy and lived together in a gated community.

The Council of the Apostles were the primate of the religious Order and also the board of directors of the church. They ministered to the congregation supporting Reverend Hayes.

All male members and wage earning women were tithed ten percent of their earnings and any windfalls that came their way. The tithes were supposedly used to support the church and pay for those members who worked solely ministerial or missionary duties.

Mila was no expert by any means when it came to religious matters or business affairs but to her it seemed like a bunch of misogynist assholes living the highlife taking back ten percent of the wages from their employees.

The SOJ seem have to have taken aspects of theology and doctrine from a number of legitimate churches and fringe religions and manipulated them to create their own dogma in order to support the beliefs of Reverend Hayes and his cronies. To Mila it seemed little more than a cult but a very profitable and well organised cult.

She had got tired of reading about the SOJ and had fallen asleep early.

When Mila awoke there was a split second when she didn’t know who and where she was but the feeling quickly passed and she smiled to herself and luxuriated in the feel of her satin night attire and pulled the comforter around her and thought about the day ahead.

Despite the morning erection pushing out her panties, she felt very feminine and was looking forward to the day. Mila eventually got out of bed and used the bathroom which got rid of her morning glory; she shaved the sparse hair on her face, brushed her teeth and put on some foundation, powder and a light coating of lipstick.

After tucking, she put on spandex sports tights and gym top and went for a run. She was self-conscious and wore dark sunglasses and a ballcap. The run was uneventful and afterwards she felt exhilarated.

Mila showered and was actually looking forward to putting on her makeup again when she remembered that she was having laser hair removal first thing so she just did her eyes, put on lipstick and brushed her hair. Even without full makeup she still looked pretty. She decided to stay dressed in panties and nighty until after the laser treatment.

Mila was too excited to have anything but coffee for breakfast and Steven Boutros arrived early with a lady wearing a nurse’s pantsuit, carrying a small suitcase.

“This will feel just like little pinpricks, especially on your upper lip. It will only take me half an hour at the most,” the laser lady said, and she was right.

The session wasn’t especially painful and she was advised that she could now wear makeup.

Steven saw the lady out and Mila watched him hand her cash at the door. The lady must have been aware that Mila was transitioning but she never said anything, in fact she hardly spoke at all. Mila supposed that laser hair removalists would likely get many transitioning women looking for permanent hair removal.

Steven returned and looked at Mila’s face very critically.

“You look good. It’s going to take a few sessions to fully eliminate that sparse beard; you’ll need another session in about six weeks. I have purchased a laser removal device so you can do it yourself now you’ve seen how it’s done. Use it as necessary and eventually you will hardly have any facial hair at all.”

“I see you’ve sorted through the clothes I laid out for you which is good. Once you’re confident you will be able to buy your own clothes but you have quite an extensive wardrobe there to get you started.”

“Go and fix your makeup and get dressed, let’s see what you’ve remembered,” Steven took out his phone and started playing with it.

“And good morning to you too Steven,” Mila said sarcastically.

“I’m not here to be your friend Mila; Peter is paying me to transform you, not to keep you amused,” Steven looked up from his phone briefly.

“And where is my soon to be husband?” Mila asked.

“He’s up in Redhaven getting his head around his new job,” Steve replied.

“Those Sons of Jehovah seem little more than a cult to me,” Mila was sitting at the dresser applying foundation, powder and blush.

“I don’t know too much about them. They aren’t exactly secretive but they congregate together and keep to themselves,” Steve said whilst punching a text into his phone.

Mila tucked to Steven’s satisfaction. She was surprised that she was not embarrassed doing so in front of him but like he said, he was her teacher, her mentor. She slipped into pantyhose, once again delighting in the feel of the cool slippery nylon on her legs and the slick feel of her panties sliding up her thighs.

She put on her only bra and selected a designer label flowing day-dress and sat down to put on her only pair of heels. Mila had quickly developed a sense of style, in her previous life she had taken an interest in fashion but this was different, this was so much better.

“Let me see you walk,” Steven said and Mila obliged.

“Hey you’re pretty good Mila, you’ve been practicing. Maybe we should reward you with some new shoes.”

“Do I get to choose?” Mila said excitedly.

“Honey… we are not spending Peter’s money on Louboutin without you trying them on first. Of course you get a say.”

Mila was aware of Steven’s Freudian slip calling her ‘honey’, but she was also aware that becoming Mila meant giving up her freedom. She reminded herself that this was a paying job.

The front doorbell rang and Steven went downstairs to answer it with Mila following behind, being careful on the stairs in her heels.

The voice coach was a severe woman in her forties and once again no introductions were made. She was all business. The voice coach explained that over the next ten days they would be focussing on increasing the pitch of her voice into the average range for a woman her age, decreasing vocal effort and loudness, and increasing breathiness.

They spent an hour voice training, including imitation of female voice models.

Mila’s sister had a distinct husky, breathy voice which made their job easier to some extent. Mila didn’t need to be able to mimic her sister, just be capable of producing a reasonable feminine voice that was close to how her sister sounded.

The hour was mentally exhausting and the coach left her a series of voice exercises to complete and a computer program to run as a study guide.

Mila was lucky in that as well as being a guitarist; she was also the singer in her band and developed a reasonable vocal range.

“Look. You’ve got the makings of great feminine voice. You just need to keep concentrating and practicing. Once you find yourself talking that way without having to concentrate you’ll have it nailed. See you tomorrow,” the voice coach said before she left.

Once again cash was exchanged at the door.

“Why all the secrecy? I don’t know anyone’s names except for yours and Peter’s. Is it really necessary?” Mila asked.

“See what happens when you get excited, you just dropped your femme voice; concentrate!” Steven replied.

“Let’s go back up to your room and practice walking and talking. Remember what I said about developing your countenance; how you need to present yourself to the world as Mila without consciously thinking about it. You need to become Mila.”

“We can have some fun with it. Put on a fashion parade. Show me how you look in the clothes you have selected and if you’re a good girl we’ll go out this afternoon. We need to get you confident being out in public.”

And so they spent most of the day doing exactly that. Mila practiced walking, talking and using feminine mannerisms whilst slipping in and out of her wardrobe. Steven encouraged her, always calling her Mila or honey; it was as if he had never met Miles and knew her only as Mila. Mila wasn’t sure if Steven was just trying to boost her confidence or if he was actually accepting of her as a woman.

A package was delivered during the afternoon and Mila was delighted to find that Steven’s seamstress had put together a collection of brassieres for Mila that would accompany any outfit she decided to wear. There were full-cup, strapless, push-up and sports bras; mainly black, white or flesh-toned but there was a red one, a blue one and burgundy one amongst the collection.

Steven had her strip to her underwear and try them on and then had her choose the right bra to go with the appropriate outfit. It was actually fun. Mila just wished she had more shoes to wear to complete her wardrobe.

They shared another cigarette on the balcony and then Steven surprised her.

“We have created a beautiful women; now we need to accessorise her,” he led Mila inside and produced a large jewellery box.

“Your sister took most of the good stuff, most of this is costume jewellery but some of it is nice.”

They spent an hour deciding what pieces would go with which ensemble. Mila was lost in herself again, enjoying playing dress-up as much as any girl would. Feminine mannerisms were becoming natural to her and her voice seldom slipped. At one stage she was dressed in an evening gown with a plunging neckline, her new padded bra giving her the necessary cleavage and her heels giving her height.

Steven stood close to her and looked at her critically, her blue eyes sparkled and she looked genuinely happy.

He held her at arm’s length, studying her, inhaling her perfume.

“You really are magnificent,” he smiled at her.

Mila leaned in and kissed his cheek. I was such a natural and feminine thing to do. They both stood still, Mila could feel her heart pounding and it seemed like neither of them was breathing.

“Thank you,” she whispered and lowered her eyes

Steven embraced her and she put her head on his shoulders.

“You’re welcome. You are very good pupil. What you did just now was perfect, very ladylike. Flirtatious without being vulgar,” he eased her from his grasp and stepped away from her.

There was no hiding that they were both a little embarrassed.

“Ok. Dress casual; I’m taking you out,” Steven suddenly announced.

Mila took off her dress and slipped into a pair of tight skinny-jeans, the pantyhose helping her legs slide into the stretch denim, she put on a long-sleeved t-shirt and a light jacket over it.

They walked and Mila felt exhilarated to be out on the streets. Two days ago she would never have dreamed this was possible. She was worried that she would be stared at and she was… by appreciative men; no one suspected that she was different.

Steven took her to the park where there was a small crowd, he wanted her to become used to being around people and then he took her to a food truck and made her order tacos for both of them so she could practice her feminine voice. It wasn’t quite right yet and the vendor gave her an inquisitive look but she concentrated and when the vendor made change and she said thank you, she got the inflexion and tone just right. The vendor gave her a wink and she blushed.

They ate in the park and then Steven took her to a bar for a drink. She didn’t want to go in but he took her arm in his and walked her though the door. The lights were bright inside the bar and a few heads turned and a few men stared. She smiled when she realised that she was being appreciated and Steven took her to the bar so she could order.

They had one drink at the bar and then Steven took her back to Peter’s apartment.

“Another chore for you now. I want you to spend at least an hour a day outside the apartment getting used to being around people, getting more confident,” he stopped at the door to her apartment block.

There was a moment’s awkward silence and then Mila leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight.

And so it went for the next week, speech therapy every day followed by developing her femininity and reading up on her sister and Peter’s marriage. Peter had left her a potted history of where they had been, what they had done, friends they had made and a number of little anecdotes for her to learn. Peter and Mila needed to behave exactly like a married couple and she needed to know all the little details.

Mila also read more about the SOJ church and the more she read the more cynical she became. She was glad that she and Peter would not have to actually join the church, just abide by their moral code.

Halfway through the second week Steven dropped by and announced that they were going to get her driver’s licence replaced. Her sister had taken her passport of course but had left behind her birth certificate. This would be Mila’s first brush with the authorities. It turned out to be a simple process as she had Mila’s social security number and her birth certificate. The clerk bought up a copy of her current licence and compared the picture to Mila and issued her a new licence on the spot.

Mila now had two valid identity documents.

“Well that was easy,” Mila grinned as they left the building.

Steven was quiet in the car and Mila became aware that they weren’t going home.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Steven pointed out the windscreen to the South Coast Plaza.

“Time to get you some shoes.”

Mila squealed and put her hands around Steven’s neck and kissed his cheek causing him to swerve the car. She apologised and rubbed her lipstick off his cheek.

They spent six thousand dollars of Peter’s money and Mila was a little embarrassed.

“He’ll consider it an investment; you have to look the part. Besides, the money will come out of your end when he starts paying out,” Steven said dryly as they drove home.

Mila came down to earth with a bang. She had been living in a fairy tale for the last week and half, now the reality that she was about to be a surrogate wife hit home. But with those yummy shoes sitting on the back seat she soon became upbeat again.

“I’m sticking around this evening and you’re cooking me dinner. I want a full on performance from you, call this an audition if you like. Pretend I am your husband who has been away for a while and you want to look your best and please him with your hospitality.”

“You’ve read what those SOJ assholes expect from their wives. I want to see how much you’ve learned,” Steven pulled the car into the underground parking lot.

As soon as they entered the apartment Mila took on a subservient role, trying her best to be the type of wife that SOJ would approved of.

“Come sit down Steven; let me get you drink,” Mila led Steven to a comfortable seat and fetched him a drink.

“Let me start dinner and I’ll come back and ask after your day,” Mila was actually a pretty good cook.

Her interest in the arts and music had also piqued an interest in fine food and dining, not that she could afford it. She prepared a simple meal and made a salad and miso sauce to accompany the tuna she would serve as the entrée.

“Tell me about your day,” Mila sat on the floor beside Steven with her legs folded under her demurely.

Mila doted on his every word and topped off his drink when it was nearly empty.

“I’m a mess. You caught me having just come back from shopping, let me dress for dinner,” Mila kept up the role-play.

Steven stood up when Mila came downstairs half an hour later; he was so taken with her. The concealed lighting picked up the highlights in her platinum-blonde bob, her blue eyes sparkled, her lips were full and ruby-red. She was wearing a simple silver lame sheath dress with a low collar; the hem rested halfway up her thighs which were sheathed in glossy flesh-toned fifteen denier nylons. Despite the fact that she had just acquired three pairs of Christian Louboutin shoes she had decided to wear the simple black high heels that Steven had given her.

Mila walked over to Steven and enveloped him in a cloud of perfume. She gently kissed his cheek.

Steven could not believe that this beautiful woman had once been Miles Francis.

“You are perfect Mila. You have done such a wonderful job in such a short amount of time,” he stared into her sparkling eyes.

“You created me Steven. What you see before you is all your work.”

Mila and her voice coach had settled on a breathy contralto voice that Mila found came to her naturally. It was subtle and smoky and quite sensual to the ear.

Miles had ceased to exist for Mila; she no longer thought about him. Her recent life had begun almost two weeks ago and her history before that consisted of series of imaginary vignettes of her and Peter happily married.

“Come; let’s eat,” Mila took Steven’s hand and led him to the dining table.

The apartment was open plan and she could talk to Steven while she was cooking.

She seated him and poured him wine keeping up the small talk while she seared the tuna and dressed the salad. She took a small glass of wine with dinner and ate delicately, chewing small bite-size pieces of tuna with her mouth closed. Mila kept up the patter all through dinner but encouraged Steven to do most of talking, telling her about his life in the theatre.

“You said something interesting last week. You said not all drag queens are gay but most are. Then you said that you’re not gay either but that trannies don’t count.”

Steven blushed.

“I was being flippant and I apologise for what I said and the way I said it,” Steven began.

“What I meant was that not all men who enter drag shows or all crossdress are gay. Many are heterosexual.”

“But what I said does not apply to you at all Mila because you are neither a drag queen nor a crossdresser.”

“You are just Mila. Yes you are a different kind of woman but a woman still the same,” Steven smiled at her and Mila smiled back.

“And what about ‘trannies don’t count’?”

Steven blushed a brighter red this time.

“Never mind, it’s a stupid saying,” Steven patted her hand.

“No come on Steven, I’m not letting you off that easy,” Mila put her little finger in the centre of her mouth and licked it.

Steven didn’t know if it was a subconscious gesture or something she’d been practicing; either way it was unnerving seeing Mila using an overt suggestive gesticulation.

“There used to be this saying in the theatre that if you accepted sexual favours from a transvestite, that it didn’t count as being gay. It’s stupid, it’s sexist, it’s transphobic and once again I apologise for saying it.”

“Well I think it’s funny,” Mila smiled at him.

“Let me help you clean up,” Steven said to change the subject.

They were uncomfortably close as they stood side by side at the kitchen sink, Steven washing and Mila drying. Steven could smell Mila’s perfume and every movement she made seemed to draw his immediate attention: the flick of a hem, the click of a heel, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand which opened her cleavage. He dropped a fork and when he bent down to pick it up he could see up her dress to her firm coltish thighs and a peek of pink panty. He couldn’t help but caress the little wrinkles in her stockings at the back of her knees.

Mila giggled and then blushed.

“Oops; my nylons are bagging.”

Steven was again not sure if it was a deliberate gesture on her part when she put one foot after the other on a kitchen chair and smoothed out her nylons. It was such a feminine thing to do and also very sensual.

Mila led Steven back to the comfortable chair in the lounge and once again sat on the carpet beside him.

“You’re not wearing your new shoes,” Steven commented.

Mila reached behind the seat and dragged out a shoebox.

“Because I think it should be you who first puts them on my feet,” Mila put the shoebox in his lap and scooted round front of him.

She kicked off her heels and extended one foot and put it in his lap. Her gossamer-clad leg was fully extended; the hem of her dress had receded to the top of her thighs.

Steven caressed her foot, enjoying rubbing the soles of her feet, the red nailpolish on her toenails glimmering through the reinforced toe of her stocking. He tweaked her toes playfully and she giggled, then he slipped the red-soled high-heel on her foot. He stroked her ankle as he admired the leopardskin print on the shoe. She put her other foot in his lap and he did the same.

“Let me show you,” Mila stood and paraded up and down in front of him showing off her new heels.

They both laughed and Steven reached out and pulled her into his lap. The put her hands behind his neck and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He stared at her beautiful face for beat then spoke.

“And… scene!” he announced.

Mila looked at him confused.

“Sorry… it’s a line that the director or acting teacher uses to cut off a scene that has either reached a natural conclusion or is rambling on unproductively. In this case you were perfect. You played the doting housewife perfectly with just enough sass.”

Mila still had her hands locked behind Steven's head.

“It was easy to do,” she stared into his eyes.

The lounge was shrouded in semidarkness lit only by a standard lamp in the far corner but Steven could see the glimmer in Mila’s deep blue eyes, her long lashes enhanced with mascara, her cheeks enhanced by a dusting of rouge and those plump red lips defined by the sheen of her lipstick. Mila’s mouth was slightly open and when he lowered his face and pressed his lips to hers she sighed.

Steven made to break the kiss but Mila tightened her grip around his neck and kept his lips pressed to hers. Mila’s tongue slowly entered Steven’s mouth and it was his turn to sigh; his hand fell naturally to her thigh and softly caressed it.

Mila purred and kissed him harder, snuggling her buttocks into his lap. She felt him become erect against her bottom and she felt an amazing femininity and power. She too was becoming erect and it was becoming painful. She desperately wanted to free her tumescent penis from between her legs but she was afraid it would ruin the moment.

Nothing overtly sexual had occurred yet but that soon changed when Steven lifted her in his arms and carried her to the lounge. He lay her down gently and then he lay beside her.

“Are you ok?” he whispered.

“Oh god yes… it’s just… it’s just I don’t know what to do,” Mila sighed and looked a little sad.

“We’ll work it out,” Steven said as his lips closed on hers.

Steven stroked her hair while he kissed her and Mila put her hands around his neck and pulled him to her, she opened her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth, she could feel Steven’s erection poking into her thigh while he stroked the other. The feel of his fingers caressing her sensitive skin through the gossamer nylon was exquisite and she became tumescent again.

Mila wriggled a little and Steven broke the kiss and looked at her concerned.

“Are you ok? Have I gone too far?”

“Mila’s face burned with embarrassment and she nodded at Steven and looked down at her belly.”

Steven smiled.

“I think I can fix your problem,” he whispered in Mila’s ear and began to kiss her again.

His hand strayed across her flat belly and down to the top of her thigh and Mila shivered in anticipation. Steven’s hand drifted under her dress and began to crawl up her thigh. Mila was breathing heavily around the deep kisses and when Steven’s hand drifted across the front of her satin panties she gasped.

Steven bought his fingers to her waist and slid them inside the waistband of her pantyhose. He gently removed the tape holding Mila in place and when her erection sprang free he laid it flat against her belly, encased in her pantyhose and her panties. Mila allowed her testes to descend.

Steven bought his hand back outside her dress and patted the bump on her lower belly.

“Is that better?” he whispered in her ear.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she pulled his face to hers.

And Steven did; passionately. His hand went back under her dress and stroked her hard cock through her panties and pantyhose and Mila began to writhe. She had done this to herself before but having Steven do it to her while she was dressed as Mila was the most amazing thing to have ever happened to her.

She could smell her perfume and taste her lipstick and Steven’s mouth, her body felt alive, caressed by the sheath dress, her brassiere, her panties, her nylons, even the tight feel of the high heels on her feet. Steven felt Mila’s cock become fully tumescent and begin to throb as he stroked and squeezed it through her panties; Mila was writhing in his grasp and he crushed her lips with his.

The feel of her cock being manipulated through her pantyhose and panties was incredible and Mila felt her orgasm begin to build. Steven felt the wetness of her precum through the gauzy fabric and felt her penis begin to tremor. He lifted the hem of her dress up her body and stroked Mila’s cock harder and faster.

“Oh god!” Mila cried out.

Mila drummed her feet on the couch as she writhed and wriggled, filling her panties with hot creamy sperm. Steven continued to stroke her, milking her cock of every drop. The viscous fluid formed a puddle on the front of her panties as it erupted from her cock and then runnels of the hot spend dribbled down her thighs.

Mila had the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced, the consciousness of being dressed enfemme, lingerie, nylons and heels, the taste and smell of makeup, her hair caressing the nape of her neck and of course Steven's intense kissing and his expert manipulation of her erupting penis. It was nothing short of astounding.

Mila’s cries of ecstasy turned to sobs and she began to cry. Steven wiped away her tears and held her close. Mila opened her arms and invited him to mount her which he did, never breaking the kiss. Mila locked her legs around his and put her arms around him, holding him close, kissing him, and feeling his cock pressing into her belly.

She stopped sobbing and smiled around his kiss, she felt contented and happy. She wanted to return the joy she was feeling and reached for Steven’s belt.

Steven gently moved her hand away.

“Not yet. Not tonight. I’m glad you are happy; really happy Mila, but I don’t want you taking that final step until you are absolutely sure.”

“But I am sure,” Mila sighed.

“No; you’re very content and excited but once you do what you were about to do there is no turning back. Think about it for a while. Let’s just be content with each other as we are. I want to kiss you some more and then I’m going home while you clean up. You need to keep that dress away from your crotch; semen stains horribly.”

“Ever the pragmatist,” Mila caressed Steven’s face and kissed him deeply.

Mila slept soundly that night without dreaming. She woke refreshed and put on spandex yoga pants, matching top, running shoes and sunglasses and went for her morning run, smiling when some guys on a nearby lot working construction whistled at her.

When she arrived back at the apartment Peter was sitting in the kitchen.

“Mila? Mila? Is that you?” Peter got off the stool looking at Mila with amazement as he approached.

“My god! Of my fucking god it’s Miles! Steven told me you were good, but Jesus fucking Christ!”

Peter examined Mila closely, he touched her breasts.

“These are a bit smaller.”

He put his hand on the moulded V of her crotch.

“How the fuck did do you do that?” he squeezed.

Mila batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me like that; and there is no Miles. If I can go to all this trouble to be Mila you can at least behave like my husband and show me some respect.”

“I’m paying for you; I own you! I’ll treat you how I like,” Peter sneered.

“It will take me only fifteen minutes to bring back Miles. It will likely take you as many years to pay off your debts when you lose the SOJ job. See you later you fucking creep,” Mila wrenched herself out of his grasp and made her way to the staircase.

The front door opened and Steven entered the apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing Peter? You’re paying me thousands of dollars to create Mila for you and you fuck it up five minutes after you meet her. Show her some respect you fucking misanthrope or we’re all out of money.”

“But she’s supposed to behave like my wife!” Peter growled.

“Yeah and that worked so well with the first Mila. You’ve read that bullshit the SOJ publish about a wife being obedient to her husband. Well it also talks about a husband respecting his wife.”

“This version of Mila will not be pushed around and you need her more than she needs you; you fucking moron!”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Peter’s anger was intense.

“You; you fucking moron! There I said it again! Now go and apologise and start treating your wife with respect.”

“I thought it was huge risk trying to create Mila but she’s perfect. She’ll pass. What you both need to do is behave like husband and wife for the next week. Practice, practice, practice and remember it might be a sham marriage but you have to be convincing.”

“Now go upstairs and apologise to Mila.”

Peter knew that Steven was right and he sighed and then clomped upstairs resignedly.

It was a new dynamic for Mila. She had just got used to being herself and now she had to learn to be Peter’s wife. Steven helped out.

“Look you two, especially you Peter, this is your chance to get it right,” Steven had them sit side by side.

“What do you mean; get it right?” Peter asked defensively.

“Look… I’m not in the blame game and I don’t know what went wrong but your relationship with Mila was a disaster. We can’t have that this time. Not because we’re trying to save a marriage but because we are trying to make money.”

“The SOJ covenant that you are about to enter into requires that you be married and have a stable relationship; the backbone of their faith is that a man marries a woman and cares for her and she devotes herself to him. Separation or divorce means excommunication for church members and a breach of contract for you,” Steven explained.

“The SOJ covenant is modern slavery but I’m willing to play along for the money,” Mila said.

“Ok Steven, I just spent ten days with the Sons of Jehovah learning about their businesses and observing their way of life. They treat their wives and families like chattels but they are respectful. I do that and moderate my behaviour as needs be because besides anything else, those assholes have a lot of money and they are going to pay me well, which by default means we all get paid well,” Peter said.

“Once again Mila, I apologise for being an asshole and I will treat you with respect,” Peter said to Mila and took her hand.

“Ok. A good start. Mila you have come a long way, you are near on perfect but now you need to apply your vigour into becoming a wife to Peter. Peter, you are right, you are an asshole; you just need to moderate your behaviour.”

“Remember your backstory. You’ve been having some marital problems but have been to counselling and are determined to get your marriage back on the rails,” Steven explained.

It wasn’t that hard pretending to be Peter’s wife. Mentally Mila had actually become her sister, being Peter’s wife was all pretence and pretty easy to do. All she had to do was dote on him and be subservient to him while he was around and all he had to do was pretend that he had love and respect for her.

The hardest part of that week for Mila was not being able to be alone with Steven for any length of time.

Steven only visited Peter’s apartment occasionally now that Mila was totally transformed. He still had a theatre company to manage. Mila still had daily voice coaching lessons but she no longer required tutelage and deportment lessons from Steven. Peter was in and out dealing with the move and preparing himself for his new job.

One afternoon Mila went to see Steven at the theatre unannounced, wanting to surprise him. She was directed to his pokey office in the back of the theatre located down a gloomy passageway obscured by props and other bric-a-brac used in performances.

He was sitting in his chair concentrating on a script when Mila sneaked up behind him and playfully put her hands over eyes.

“Hello Mila. I’d recognise that perfume anywhere,” Steve removed her hands from his eyes and stood, taking Mila in his arms.

They kissed, long and hard holding onto each other tightly. Mila had taken off her coat and she was wearing the same simple silver lame sheath that she had worn when he came to dinner. His hand dipped under the hem of her skirt and he was delighted to find that she wearing hold-up stockings. Steven played with the welts and then his fingers drifted across the pale, sensitive skin of her thighs and found her hard in her panties.

“You didn’t tape, you naughty girl,” he smiled at her.

Mila squeezed his erection through his pants. She had been both dreaming of and dreading this but when her fingers wrapped around his hard flesh all trepidation left her. She felt feminine but she also felt powerful.

Steven gasped in her mouth as he kissed her when she began to stroke him and he stroked Mila through her satin panties. Mila freed his erection from his pants and worked her fingers along the veiny shaft and smooth bulbous head, beads of precum issued from his glans.

Mila broke the kiss and began to lower herself, holding onto Steven’s body until she was on her knees before him. She eyed the dewy droplets of pre-ejaculate and licked her red-lipsticked lips.

Steven watched her intently.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Mila replied by taking him into her mouth and locking her lips around the base of his shaft whilst using the tip of her tongue to lap at the sweet-salty precum. Steven held onto the desk as he became weak at the knees.

Mila had been dreaming of this, wanting to experience what it was like to have a man desire her, want her, beg her to sexually satisfy him while she remained in control and satisfied her own wants and needs.

It was over quickly. Mila worked her lips up and down Steven’s shaft whilst slavering his glans and licking his fraenulum with her tongue. Holding the base of his erection while she worked his cock with her mouth made Mila feel excited and empowered; she slipped a hand under her dress and freed her cock from her panties.

Mila’s seed splattered on the wooden floor at the same time that Steven filled her mouth with his musky spend. Mila swallowed it, not all repulsed; in fact it excited her and increased the intensity of her own orgasm.

When she had finished with Steven’s cock Mila licked him clean and put it away and zipped him. She took a tissue from the box on his desk and wiped herself. She would have to wait for her erection to subside before she could tuck.

“Well that was unexpected,” Steven helped Mila to her feet.

Mila frowned.

“And delightful of course,” Steven smiled and she grinned back at him.

“You told me to think carefully and to be absolutely sure before I did anything like this. For that last week I have been having nocturnal emissions but the dreams accompanying them have not been of me fucking women. They have been of Mila pleasing a man.”

Steven opened his mouth and Mila put a finger over his lips and silenced him.

“I don’t want to psychoanalyze it. I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want to spoil it. Since our dinner together when you seduced me I have come to realise that I am a special woman and that I take the greatest pleasure when I behave like one in all facets of my life.”

“Oh… I see,” Steve said thoughtfully.

“Also I just wanted to see what it would be like to suck a cock,” Mila grinned.

Steven actually blushed and was speechless.

“I’m joking,” Mila smiled up at him and kissed him.

“What about Peter?”

“Peter is definitely not getting his cock sucked,” Mila replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean,” Steve was suddenly serious.

“We haven’t spoken about it in detail but we have tacitly agreed that ours will be a platonic relationship. Openly we will be the couple reinvigorating our marriage whilst behind closed doors we will be civil and courteous to each other. He knows he can’t fuck around in Redhaven so he will need to find other ways to amuse himself.”

“He will be travelling a lot for his job and I’m sure that so long as he is discreet while he is out of town he can sew his oats with professional ladies who know how to provide such services.”

“And you?” Steven asked.

“I’d like to visit you here in LA every so often if that’s ok. Now that I am about to become rich I can see me becoming a patron of the arts,” Mila grinned.

Steven pulled her into his arms and kissed her but it was short-lived as they heard the clatter of footfalls down the corridor.

“Shit!” Steven looked down in alarm and saw the splatter of Mila’s semen still on the floor boards.

He pulled a couple of tissues from the box on his desk and dropped them over the mess and rubbed them with his shoe and then he kicked the tissues under the desk.

“Ever the gentleman,” Mila kissed his cheek and turned to leave as the door opened and one of the production crew came into the office.

*****

Mila and Peter flew out five days later flying first class to Jackson Hole. Peter ordered champagne as soon as the plane was airborne.

“To a new beginning,” he smiled at her and they clinked glasses.

Peter was irritating and contemptible but he could be a charmer when he wanted to be. Mila was both excited and trepidatious about leaving LA and moving to Redhaven.

“Let’s make it official shall we? This is an exact copy of the one Mila took with her when she ran away.”

Peter took a plain white-gold wedding band from his pocket and slid it onto the ring finger of Mila’s left hand. He leaned in and softly kissed her cheek. It was first time that he had touched her since he had been rude to her in the kitchen.

“Mister and Mrs Randal,” Peter offered her his glass and they clinked them again.

They transferred to a private jet for the short hop from Jackson Hole to Redhaven.

They were picked up in a limousine and driven into town where Peter and Mila had been booked into a suite at the Redhaven Lodge, a small luxury hotel owned and operated by the SOJ. They were treated like royalty but left to their own devices so they could settle down.

They had eaten room service and were both dressed in night attire. Mila wore her usual satin and lace nightie and panties with a sheer robe over and Peter wore silk pyjamas. They were having a nightcap before retiring, the suite had a second bedroom that Mila would use and then make up the bed in the morning so it looked like they had slept together.

“We meet the Reverend Ronald Hayes, his wife Mandy, Brian and Dianne Hislop and Jim and Helen Benson tomorrow at the Sons of Jehovah Supreme Temple.”

The Supreme Temple was an ornate, extravagant, marble-clad building that consisted of an enormous church and also accommodated the church’s business offices.

“Don’t forget that you have met the Hislops and the Bensons when you accompanied me to apply for the position. They are Reverend Hayes closest friends. We had dinner with them right here in this hotel.”

Talking like this helped Mila create false memories that she could regurgitate when needed. Luckily the visit had been short and they were the only people Mila’s sister had met. Peter told her that her sister had been pretty well grilled by Dianne Hislop and Helen Benson who were obviously feeling her out.

She and Peter rehearsed how they would interact and discussed how they thought the day would develop. It was essentially D-Day, the day that Peter would sign his contract and they would begin to reap the rewards of his new-found position.

They both slept soundly and were picked up after breakfast in a chauffeur-driven limousine and taken to an imposing building surrounded by lawns and gardens. They were driven around to the rear of the Temple and led inside to be met by Reverend Ronald Hayes, Mandy Hayes, Brian and Dianne Hislop and Jim and Helen Benson. The men were dressed in expensive suits and the women wore tailored skirts and dresses, hosiery and heels, heavy on the makeup with perfectly coiffed hair. They were accessorised with jewellery that was obviously expensive and every fingernail on display was painted to match their lipstick.

Mila felt right at home in her navy-blue Armani skirt-and-jacket suit, shiny black Louboutin pumps and Wolford barely-there stockings. The women sized each other up critically as women tend to do and offered air-kisses while the men shook hands. One of the women complimented Mila on her new hairstyle.

They were led into a large reception room and offered coffee by a pretty young woman wearing maid’s attire.

“Now you all get to know one and other a little better and play nice while I take Peter into my office for a little while to finalise the legalities,” Reverend Ronald Hayes gave the small congregation his winning smile.

Ronald waved at an oak door let into the wall and Peter opened it and stepped inside the large office it gave entrance to. Ronald stepped around Peter and strode to his desk and indicated a hard-backed chair set in front of the impressive desk. This miffed Peter a little as there were two, two-seater couches arranged around a big low-set table and a couple of comfortable leather wing-back chairs along the walls. Peter felt like a schoolboy sitting in front of the Principal.

“Look around Peter,” Ronald waved his hand magnanimously around the office.

Everything in the office was expensive and most if was collectible. The paintings on the walls, the books in the bookcase, the statues placed strategically around the room, the décor and furniture all exuded wealth and power.

“Impressive,” Peter noticed there were few religious artefacts in the office except for a large leather-bound bible on a plinth that had religious icons carved into it.

Beside it on another plinth was another large ancient tome titled ‘The Book of Pairings’.

“You bet it’s impressive and being the senior pastor of the Sons of Jehovah I know exactly where every piece came from and how much it’s worth.

“I can tell you to within a few hundred K how much our business holdings are worth, our property, our franchises, and our church. I can tell you within a soul or two how big my ministry is.”

“I know all this because I need to know all this; knowledge is power as they say,” Reverend Ron rested his hands on a large file.

“So the BS stops here Peter.”

“I know you are broke. I know that you’ve been putting on airs and graces for a while now, living on credit. I had your finances fully audited and did an extensive background check on you. You can’t rub two nickels together except for the advance I gave you.”

“Didn’t check too much into your personal life but I dug up enough. The story about you and Mila having marital woes is true. That pretty little wife of yours has been wrapping those long legs of hers around her yoga instructor. She was about to skedaddle with him too I was told, but somehow you managed to reign her in and hold onto her.”

“Look. I admire a man who can handle his woman and I don’t know if you used corporal means or financial to keep her in line; I hope it was the former, a woman needs a physical reminder now and then so she knows who’s the boss.”

Peter’s heart was in his mouth. For a minute there he thought the Reverend had discovered his ruse.

“What I’m getting at Peter is don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“You are the best at what you do and I need you; but I don’t need you that bad that I’m prepared to put my church in jeopardy. You are going to learn things about my church, not just financial things, things that no outsider has ever been privileged to. You toe the line, abide by the rules and stop lying to me and the job is yours.”

“If you can’t do that we’ll put you on a plane and demand our retainer back ok?”

“Agreed Reverend. Mila won’t be doing anymore straying and I’ll be your loyal employee and abide by the rules of your church,” Peter said sagely, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

“This file contains your contract. There is a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo that a lawyer like you will understand but I’ll just summarise it as best I can. It says that if you stick to the terms of this contract you are going to be a wealthy man and if you don’t you are going to wish you had never been born. Do you believe me?”

Peter nodded.

“Then welcome to the Sons of Jehovah. You sign this contract right now, in front of me and then you bring that pretty bride of yours in here to do the same and we are all good and done. You can read the detail later. Ok?”

Peter stood and offered his hand and Ronald reciprocated. They shook hands over the contract and then Peter signed the last page of the bulky document above his printed name.

The Reverend pressed a button under his desk and the door opened and Mila entered looking confused and bewildered.

Ronald invited them to sit down opposite him on the couch at the big low table, his eyes straying to Mila’s thighs when she pulled down her skirt which had ridden up as she sat.

“Nothing for you to worry about Mila. I’m pleased to tell you that your husband has signed a contract with us which has tenured his employment to the Sons of Jehovah for the next two years with an option of two more to follow. We just need you to sign too as his loving spouse and heir to his estate,” Ron handed Mila a pen.

The other two couples and Mandy Hayes had entered the office and formed a circle around the Reverend and the Randals.

Mila knew that to ask any of the many of questions that were rattling around inside her head would put the deal in jeopardy so she smiled graciously at her husband and signed above her name.

“That’s marvellous. I think you two should seal it with a kiss,” The Reverend stretched out his arms in praise.

Peter and Mila stood and Mila leaned in and he kissed her cheek.

“Oh come on now. You’re amongst friends, kiss that girl like you mean it,” the Reverend chuckled.

Peter took Mila into an embrace. It was the first time he had felt her body against his and he was surprised that she felt so good in his arms. She smelt good too. He could feel her shaking a little and he hoped that the others thought that she was just expressing her profound happiness for her husband.

Peter pressed his lips to hers and Mila knew that to show any form of abhorrence would expose their deceit. She closed her eyes and put her arms around Peter’s neck and kissed him deeply, supressing her feelings of revulsion. Mila had felt completely feminine and comfortable when she was intimate with Steven but she didn’t feel any affection for Peter, but she was a good actress.

“Ok, enough you two or we’ll have to find you a room,” the Reverend chuckled.

Peter and Mila released each other, both blushing.

“No need to be embarrassed. Our church condones open displays of affection between married couples. It’s good to see commitment between a husband and his wife; nothing below the waist of course,” Ronald joked and the assembled couples laughed with him.

Peter and Mila were confused by the pious public façade of the SOJ and the private innuendo.

There was hand shaking and cheek kissing all round and from somewhere a bottle of ice-cold champagne appeared and a toast was made. After the toast Peter and Mila were led outside the opulent building.

Parked at the bottom of imposing marble steps were a brand new BMW sports car and a Mercedes saloon.

“Guess who gets which car?” Ronald crowed.

“You follow Brian and Dianne and they’ll take you to your new abode. We’ll send your bags over later,” the Reverend made a shooing motion and went back inside with his wife and Jim and Helen Benson.

To be continued