A wife sets out to teach her husband a lesson and they both learn something about themselves.

He Took Two For The Team
By Monica Rose and Marina Kelly

Samantha stood impatiently at the checkout station tapping her toe, as the pimple-faced young checker robotically scanned her basket's contents. Once her cart was empty Sam, as she preferred to be called, opened her faux Gucci purse - the real thing would have to wait - and dug out her debit card. Just as she punched in her last digit of her pin, she heard, "Sam is that you?"

Turning her head, Sam was delighted to see an old sorority sister, Betty. Abandoning her cart with a shove to allow for the next customer, Sam pushed past several perturbed shoppers to join Betty at the end of the line where they hugged like long lost cousins. As they hugged a tiny toddler terrorist tried to escape from his mother's shopping cart. An instant before he did a swan dive to the floor, Betty seized her child by the arm reminiscent of the way birds of prey often seize small mammals.

"Well I'll be, Samantha Turner, how have you been? This is my oldest. Meet Tony the terrible. It's been what 5 years since graduation? I almost didn't recognize you in a dress and heels. In school the only time I saw you in skirts were for parties."

Sam held out her left hand displaying her engagement and wedding ring. "Actually it's Samantha Johansson now. As to the outfit that is for my husband, he prefers I be more June Cleaver, than my preferable tomboy self."

"Johansson, what happened to that Neanderthal of a football player you were dating?"

"Ah, Billy I haven't thought of him in a long time. He was a legend in his own mind. He was great in bed but dumber than a sack of rocks. I dumped him after homecoming."

"So how did you meet Mr. Right, and are there any little Beavers running around at home? More importantly do you have any pictures?"

Sam retrieved her wallet and slid out her favorite picture. Sam proudly handed over a worn snapshot depicting a couple, both sweaty and exhausted, standing by a palm tree.

"That's my husband. No kids, but we're currently trying. It was taken at the finish line of the Hawaiian Triathlon. We met when I 'accidently' tripped him at the change over from swimming to bikes."

Betty looked in awe at the chiseled forms of the two athletes. "Wow, I'm impressed. You both look to be in fantastic shape. I bet there isn't five pounds of fat between you. In fact you two are almost the same size."

"Actually he is almost a full inch taller than me. I'm ashamed to admit we weigh the same. We both kept in shape and were into completive triathlons until we opened our own marketing business six months ago - Johansson Marketing Inc."

"Sorry, never heard of it. But I'm really impressed."

"Don't be too impressed. We're on the verge of going bankrupt, which means we will lose everything, our house, savings, and even our cars. I can't tell you the kind of pressure we're under. I'm desperate and ready to do almost anything to get us out from under this thing."

"I'm still awed that in this economy you guys had the guts to tackle something like that. I'm nothing but a housewife and mother. My hubby believes in the adage; 'Keep 'Em Barefoot and Pregnant.' I have three rug rats, my little man here and twin two year old girls at home with their grandmother. They just contracted chicken pox."

Sam reached for her picture but Betty wouldn't give it back, as she continued to study it. "He is almost too pretty to be a man. Isn't his hair a bit long for a business executive?"

"At my request, he's been growing his hair since college and keeps it pulled back in a ponytail. He's our CPA and chief accountant. I am the one who interacts with the clients. Nobody at work even notices it anymore."

"In fact, you two have an uncanny resemblance. I'm not sure if that says more about you or him."

Sam gave a hearty laugh. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," and dug deeper into her wallet and produced a second picture. She traded with Betty. "I don't normally show people this but take a look."

Betty examined it closely, "I didn't know you had a sister."

Sam laughed, "I don't. That's me and my husband at our company's New Year Eve's costume party."

"No way that is a guy, what's the gag?"

"It's not a gag. It took me six weeks to talk him into it. His name is Samuel. The running joke at work is two Sam's running the place. I thought it would be good for company morale for us to dress alike and see if our employees could tell us apart."

Betty shrugged not totally convinced. "Does he cross-dress often?"

"Oh, heavens no! He's all man, even a bit chauvinistic? The only way I could get him into a skirt and to the party was to promise that next year I would dress as a man, well that and a valium I secretly dissolved in his pre party glass of tequila."

"If you don't mind me asking, how's he in bed?"

"Betty, we always shared that kind of info about our boyfriends; but this is my husband. I'll say upstairs he has it all. He has a brilliant mind, a heart the size of Texas, but downstairs he is how do I delicately put this? He's small in stature."

"OMG Sam, I'm so sorry. Why did you marry him? Didn't you take him out for a test drive before closing the deal?"

"Don't get me wrong Betty. That man totally satisfies me. Right from the beginning he let me know that his bedroom philosophy is women come first. Maybe he's overcompensating; but in bed he's like an Energizer Bunny, my needs are paramount and drive him to unbelievable efforts. Why some nights when I'm sated and too exhausted to continue, Sam never concerns himself about his pleasure; he will just climb into bed and cuddle me until morning."

"Sam, this guy sounds more like a saint then a man."

"True there are times he raises me to heavenly delights; but trust me; he has his flaws."

"Sam I've got to run, how about dinner at my house tomorrow?"

"Sorry can't make it. Hope you understand we have reservations at the steakhouse out on the strand. It took weeks to get the reservations."

"Alright, if you prefer stake tartar, over hamburger helper I'll understand this one time. How about we meet for lunch the day after tomorrow?"

"Fine Betty, but no place fancy I don't have a lot of discretionary funds right now, this night out will wipe me until payday."

Betty smiled and said, "Okay, we'll meet in my favorite resonant, Burger King. The kids like the crowns. Say 12:30? I want to hear all about this business of yours. I guess you knew what you were doing majoring in marketing at school."

@ @ @ @

That day Betty found a rather subdued Samantha sitting at a table staring out the window.

Betty hugged her old friend, "I'm the last of the big spenders. It's my treat today. What would you like?"

Betty returned with their order, two cheeseburgers and a large fry. They ate in relative silence as they picked at the fries.

"Sam, what's happened? You were so alive and vivacious the other day. Now you act like your dog just died."

Sam sobbed softly, dabbed her runny nose with a napkin.

"Betty, I don't know how to say this."

"Come on girl, in school we never held anything back. Remember those all nighters where we went through boxes of Kleenex?"

"It's my husband!"

Betty clapped in glee, "Man trouble! That was my major in college. Remember what we did to Jimmy Hollingsworth when he stood up Veronica for the prom? She spent all that money on a new dress and waited all night. He never even called."

That brought a smile as Sam replied, "Yea that SOB never stood another girl up."

Betty giggled, "It was entirely my plan I'm proud to say. I heard after we finished with him he needed six months of therapy."

Sam brightened considerably recalling that night. "We found Jimmy at the Frat pool party. After three hours of drinking beer, it was easy for Holly to slip him a glass of her special punch. Can you imagine his surprise, the last thing he remembered with drinking and chasing coeds; then hours later he woke up tethered to the flag pool wearing only a diaper and his hair decorated in dozens of small pigtails tied up with pretty pink bows."

"Don't forget about the shave and bath we gave him. The schmuck didn't have a hair left below his hairline. I still think shaving his eyebrows was a bit much. But he was baby bottom smooth. And then Sally sacrificed her entire bottle of expensive French perfume to anoint our baby girl. He smelled like the preverbal French Whore house.

Betty laughed so hard soft drink came out her nose. "I can still see him struggling to get that harness off. As hard as he fought; with the baby bottle superglued to one hand and a doll glued to the other he couldn't use his hands."

Sam I have a confession to make, "I peed my pants when the campus cops took him off to the clinic to have the pacifier we superglued in his mouth removed. Do you think he actually used the diaper?"

Sam thought briefly, "Well let's figure this out, he drank beer for three hours and then took a five hour nap. I strongly suspect his diapers were filled with more than baby powder. Then Monica who worked on the yearbook staff snuck his picture in the yearbook under Prom activities. I'll never forget the caption under his picture, 'Momma's little girl needs a hug. I asked him to autograph my book but he stormed off."

"Some people have no sense of humor."

The two women faced each other and executed a perfect high five.

"Alright sister that's enough reminiscing about the good old days. Let's hear about your problem.

Taking a deep breath Samantha said, "My husband is so exasperating. He's fixated on my lack of curves. He wants me to get my breasts enlarged. Sometimes it seems that is all he cares about. I know my AA is below the norm; but I have always been a runner and their lack of bulk is ideal for jogging."

Betty interrupted, "Sam, that's not the kind of exercise most men are interested in. You really can't blame him for that."

"Betty you don't understand. This is my body, why should I have to undergo major surgery just to satisfy my husband's fantasies?"

Betty was bemused by the observation. "I am astounded at your husband's audacity, critiquing your body, considering his own inadequacies. Of course, medical science can easily correct your shortfall, his not so much. Does he harp on this all the time?"

"Not much, he brings it up frequently and asks me to reconsider. Once I say no, he drops it until next time. The thing that really irritates me is the way he ogles other woman. Whenever we are out and a voluptuous woman is within 100 yards his eyes are drawn to her just as surely as a compass needle is drawn to magnetic north. Betty it is so tiresome, always feeling inadequate in my husband's eyes."

With a massive sigh, Sam went on, "So this morning when I put on my brassier it hit me, I am still wearing a training bra; I barely fill an A cup. Is that sad or what? I made a decision I am going to give my husband what he wants. Valentine's day is coming up that is going to be my gift to him."

Betty chimed in, "In that case you should give yourself a present as well. I know this really well stocked adult novelty items store that sells the best vibrating dildos."

Samantha blushed bright red as Betty went on, "Use it to teach your husband a lesson."

Samantha gasped in astonishment, "You can't be implying I use it on him?"

Betty chuckled, "Oh, heavens no, not even I'm that kinky. Just leave it out on your nightstand. Periodically pick it up and fondle it when he's looking. He'll get the message."

"Betty, you are one devious woman."

"Thanks I try."

@ @ @ @

That evening Samuel arrived home, pulling his car into the quaint cul-de-sac after he stayed late to participate in a teleconference with the agent of a prospective new client. The client was interviewing likely new marketing companies and the agent said his boss was dissatisfied with their current representation. Various possible dates were discussed; the only one open corresponded with the weekend of the Johansson's annual Valentines' Day Dance. Sam extended an invitation to the CEO to attend the company's party where, hopefully, they could pitch their business plan.

Sam sat anxiously at the dining room table and waited to tell Samuel her decision. She was into her second glass of wine and absentmindedly toyed with the rectangular box that rested on the table.

Samuel passed through the room on the way to the kitchen to get himself a beer. He was in a celebrating mood. He only caught a glance at the box on the table and while he stood at the fridge he yelled, "Whatcha got in the box?"

As she slid the box into her lap she remarked, "Oh, this little old thing it's nothing."

Sitting down across from his wife he responded, "Okay, if you say so, I didn't get a real good look at it but the box didn't look all that small to me."

Samantha giggled and decided to change the subject, "We need to talk. I've some good news."

Samuel took a sip of his beer and said, "That's a coincidence, so do I! I got confirmation today that a new client is seriously considering switching his business over to us. Maximilian Wolfgang von Goethe, the owner of Von Goethe Holdings. He has interests in shipping, transportation, and energy production. His shipping involves ocean, air, and land transport of goods. Energy involves oil and green energy sources. I have a telephone call scheduled for tomorrow with his right hand man. With the proper presentation, I think we've a great chance of landing their account."

Samantha couldn't hold it in any longer and said, "Wow, that's great! Now it's my turn. You know how you're always pestering me about my inadequate bosom?"

"I wouldn't use the word pester, but go on."

"I've given the issue a great deal of thought. Can you explain to me one more time why this is so important to you?"

Samuel, felt a trap here and knew he needed to tread very lightly. "It's hard to put into words. I guess I'm just a product of the sex generation."

"Sam there is no such thing! There is an X generation but not a sex one."

"Alright, maybe it's the sexual revolution I'm talking about. My point is aside from the sensual nature of a woman's breast; their visual appeal defines an individual as a woman. To me the larger the breast, the more womanly the person and the greater the sex appeal, Res ipsa loquitur — the matter's self evident."

Realizing the conversation wasn't going the way she wanted, Samantha interrupted.

"Stop showing off! In plain English, you think big boobs are sexy, yes or no!"

Knowing a lose-lose situation when he saw it, Samuel responded, "Honey, be honest. You have to agree that men are visual animals. We fall in love with an entire person; but we're initially attracted to their looks. Obviously breasts are a large piece of a woman's aura, just as is her face, hair and figure. Curves on a woman are attractive. Yes, boobs form an important part of the overall picture, just as a slim waist and rounded bottom are. If a woman has a figure, she should display it. If you got it, flaunt it."

"So, you're saying that you want me to have more of a figure, that I would be more attractive with 10 pounds of jiggling fat on my chest and ass?"

Samuel continued without thinking, "You know I think you are beautiful, it's just that I believe that adding to your figure would make you better looking." Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that they didn't sound right; but it was too late to backtrack before Samantha continued.

"Is that why you've been hounding me to have my breasts done? Saying that with tits I'll look like a woman instead of prepubescent girl?"

Samuel should have shut up and apologized right there, but, "No…no honey. I love you regardless of what you look like."

Now he really should have kept quiet. Instead he dug his hole deeper. "I was thinking you would have greater self-confidence projecting a more womanly image for our clients. That's all."

"You're saying that my having a pair of prominent breasts would improve our chances of closing deals with clients?"

"Well, yes. When we're dealing with some of the corporate execs we have seen, they look at the whole package, first impressions are lasting ones. In this economic environment we need every advantage we can get. Let's be honest, everyone does it, sex sells. It'll never hurt our chances of getting business if you occasionally flash some old geezer a little thigh and tit. If they are concentrating on your chest instead of the contract, they are more likely to sign on the dotted line."

Samantha glared at Samuel, her eyes narrowed as she was obviously thinking.

Samuel tried to redirect her attention, "You said you had some news?"

His wife blinked a couple of times, "Sorry. I zoned out for a minute there. I guess I've forgotten what I wanted to say. I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me." She set the box she had been holding in her lap casually on the table and left the room, one hand brushing at her face like she was moving a lock of hair.

Samuel looked after her for a moment, confused. Then he turned his attention to the box. It was a little over a foot long and 3 or 4 inches wide. Curious, he lifted the top of the box off to reveal what he first thought was an obelisk; except on closer scrutiny was obviously a reproduction of a man's penis. He dropped the lid like it was a hot potato. He stared transfixed; Samuel felt totally inadequate. He could see that this monster made his own equipment look as if it belonged to a child. Hearing the bathroom door re-open, he quickly put the lid back on the box.

He stood just as Samantha returned. Seeing the box had been moved she smiled a wicked smile, she handed her husband a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Here's a novel idea, read it. It's my pre-surgery schedule and procedures."

Sam's heart briefly stopped, "Surgery? Is everything alright?"

Samantha made a major production of picking up the box as she responded, "Yes, everything's fine. I'm having my breasts augmented, my gift to you for Valentine's Day."

She cradled the box to her chest as she walked off and mumbled the quip, "Soon you'll have something new to play with as do I. That should make both of us happy. Come to bed, you can thank me in advance for your present."

Sam tore a button off his dress shirt as he got undressed in route to his bedroom. He paused in the doorway and marveled at how lucky he was to have married Samantha; her naked form was laying on the bed waiting for him. He kicked off his jockey shorts on the way to the bed he almost stumbled in route when he noticed the monstrous vibrator laying on the nightstand. Totally intimidated by the massive phallic device, Sam made sure he brought his 'A game' to the night's activities.

Getting dressed in the morning and headed for the door, Samuel just couldn't keep his mouth shut; he pointed to the vibrator and asked, "Am I as good as your friend over there?"

"Of course dear; but then again I haven't bought batteries yet."

Samuel's happy expression turned into a dour pout. He quickly headed for his car before his traitorous misty eyes betrayed him.

During the day, it appeared to Samuel that his wife was avoiding him. Around 4 PM he got off the phone having talked with the prospective client, Maximilian Wolfgang von Goethe's executive assistant, having coordinated the man's visit.

The assistant was a fountain of information; he told Sam that Max was a bit of an eccentric. He related that his likes and dislikes tended to drive his professional decisions. He provided Max's preferred hotel chain, his choice of meals, his favorite brand of whiskey, and then the big bomb. Max biggest idiosyncrasy was he only dated busty blond women. The better endowed, the more he enjoyed himself.

Sam, after a thorough search of his address book, spent most of the afternoon in personnel going through the files of every woman who worked for them. With a heavy heart he headed to his wife's office. This was one conversation he was not looking forward to having.

He sat down across from her and reviewed their current financial situation and emphasized the company's truly desperate straits. Maximilian was the only thing that could keep the wolves at bay.

Then he related Max's preferences as he had been told. When he got to the dating part he paused and stared at his hands. Finally Samantha prompted, "Go on, I know you. There's something more."

"I wouldn't ask this but there are no other alternative. I have been through every one of our acquaintances and employees. The only option I can see is if you agree to be Max's date."

"Samuel Patrick Johansson, are you out of your mind? There must be other alternatives!"

"I have been over this a hundred times, there are only two; we can rescind our invitation and lose the company or hire a working girl that meets his specifications."

"Sam, I know what I am asking, putting aside the emotions for a minute. After your surgery, you'll ideally match the type of woman he prefers to escort to social functions. Being a co-owner you'll be in perfect position to persuade him to come with us."

Samantha gave her husband a stare that sent chills down his spine. She finally broke the silence with, "If I'm to be his escort, just what would be expected of me?"

"Not much, just treat it like any single girl on a date with a rich millionaire."

"Single girl? You aren't implying I should do anything physical are you?"

"Only what you are comfortable with, hold his hand, flirt a bit, and maybe a quick goodnight kiss that sort of thing. It is just imperative that he have a good time. Honey, whatever you do, just know I will still respect and love you in the morning."

Samantha thought, 'Yes but; will I respect you?' Then she said, "Get the hell out of here Samuel, and shut the door behind you! I'll let you know my decision tonight. I need time to evaluate your proposition."

Once the door was closed, Sam put a call through to Betty. "Can I stop by for a cup of coffee and a quick chat on my way home tonight? I won't take up much of your time."

"This sounds serious, would you like something stronger than coffee? I have all the time in the world, my hubby is working late."

@ @ @ @

Sam arrived on Betty's doorstep, still steaming mad. After one look at her friend, she sent the girls back to the den to watch television. She pulled Sam into the living room and sat her down on the sofa.

"Girl…If you get any more pissed, your look will qualify as a death-ray. What's the matter?"

"Betty…Remember when I told you that the company was in trouble?"

Betty nodded, "I remember. Are things getting worse?"

"It depends upon how you look at it," Sam said in frustration. "I told Samuel last night that I was going in for breast augmentation and he was very happy. Then I took out that new best friend we bought together and he about lost it." She smiled lopsidedly at Betty and giggled.

"This afternoon he came to tell me that he had a big fish on the line and that the only way we could get him to sign on with us was to put him together with a big-breasted blonde." Sam made sure to tone down her language. Regardless of how angry she was, she knew that her language could fry little shell-like ears.

Eyes widened in realization, Betty said. "You mean that he expects you to…"

Tears formed at the edges of Sam's eyes as she nodded. "What makes me so angry is that my own husband is so clueless he doesn't even realize that he sounds like he's pimping me out like a common whore."

"That ass!" Betty clapped her hand over her mouth at her outburst, afraid that the little ones might have heard her. "I wonder how he would feel if we put him out on display for some random old maid cougar and let her think that he was available for whatever she had in mind. What are you going to do? Do you know yet? He deserves a good slap upside the head!"

"I'm not sure yet. Samuel is really a great guy. I love him to pieces I just don't think he is cognizant of how degrading and objectifying his actions are to woman. He's a great boss, but even the girls at work are starting to grumble about his persistent ogling." Sam said.

Slowly an idea began to germinate until the solution sprouted full grown in her psyche. "Something you said has given me an idea." A slightly evil smile spread across her face. "Do you remember the picture I showed you of the two of us at the New Year's Eve party?"

"Yes," answered Betty. Then she caught up with her friend and a very broad smile grew on her face as well. "Yes!"

"I've already scheduled my breast surgery for the middle of the month and scheduled the time off from work. It would only be four days," Sam said. "The timing would be just about right for everything to continue normally. Then, if things happen right, I break the news to Samuel and put him right in the crosshairs." She grinned as she contemplated the possible result to her plan.

"Wait a minute!" Betty said. "I missed something. How are you going to get Sam to go through the surgery instead of you?"

Samantha winked at Betty and stood up. Turning toward the rec room, she called, "Caroline! Elizabeth! Come here and give Auntie Samantha a kiss and hug!"

Betty stood her eyes wide. "Oh no! You can't do that! It's too risky!"

Samantha nodded and said, "Yes, there are some risks. What I'll do is go see the doctor in a few days and tell him that I've been exposed. I'll make sure that I explain what is going on, and tell him to keep the time open on his schedule for surgery. The doctor should be able to make sure that I come through it okay. If things go the way I hope, Samuel will learn a couple of big lessons from this."

Betty smiled ear to ear, "Just how big are we talking here, DD's, E's or something even larger? That would show the chauvinist, both sides of the coin! Let me help, please. I have to be part of this Machiavellian plan."

Betty's expression turned to one of concern as the two little girls ran in from watching television, leaving their brother playing with his trucks. It was obvious that they were both in middle of their chicken pox infection, even though they only had a few blisters between them. The ever-present pink Calamine lotion dotted their faces.

Smiling, Samantha knelt down and held her arms out to the girls. Who promptly stood back from this stranger and looked up at their mother. Betty nodded unhappily and said, "Go ahead girls. This is Samantha, a good friend of mine from when Mommy was in school." She put on a happy smile to hide her thoughts from her daughters.

The girls came over to Samantha and allowed themselves to be wrapped into a big hug. "What are you watching on television?" she asked. Both girls started chattering excitedly about the princess and the frog, trying to pull her into the rec room with them. Samantha allowed herself to be towed into the family room where the girls had been ensconced in pillows and blankets to recover from their illness.

"It looks like you're having a party in here," she said to the girls.

Elizabeth, the taller of the two by an inch, nodded. "Mommy promised if we were good and didn't scratch we could have a chicken pox party this weekend. I don't know what that is though. Mommy said we have to invite our yucky brother Tony to our party."

Samantha laughed and looked back at Betty, who hung her head. "Well…I'm sorry I can't come to the party this weekend. Is it okay if I just share a drink with you girls before I go home?"

Elizabeth nodded and Samantha took a drink from one of the glasses on the table in front of the couch. Then she crouched down again and hugged the girls tightly again. She held them out in front of her and looked them both in the eye and said, "Thank you very much for all of your help."

Of course, the girls were confused but smiled prettily at Samantha and told her that she was welcome. Samantha helped each girl up onto the sofa and wrapped them comfortably in their blankets. The girls snuggled down into the warmth and smiled up at Samantha happily. She kissed each child gently on the forehead.

Betty walked Samantha to the door. "I know that Samuel needs to be taught a lesson, but I really want you to see a doctor when the fever starts. Chicken pox can be a problem for adults."

"Luckily Samuel had Chicken pox as a child. So I don't have to be concerned with him being infected."

Betty switched back to the project at hand. "This will be poetic justice at its height. I would love to be there for the grand unveiling…Please? What are you going to christen her?"

"I am not sure; but I would like to break a bottle of champagne over his opinionated chauvinistic hardhead. Let's keep it simple and stick with Sammie, that's what I called him on New Year's Eve — he hated it."

Betty clapped her hands in glee, which brought the munchkins running back to the kitchen to see the cause of their mother's celebration.

"Is the party starting already Mommy?"

"No dear it's not a party; it is more like your Aunt Samantha is opening a school. She is going to teach a personal development class."

The word school had the kids fleeing back to the safety of their blankets and cartoons.

"I have to be there for graduation. What can I bring balloons, cake, or flowers?"

Sam laughed at the thought of having a birthday party for Sammie, but thought better of it. Eventually she came up with a valid justification for Betty to show up for Sammie's grand unveiling. "Maybe you have some jewelry; Sammie can wear to her cotillion."

"I do have a set of long pearls. Your girlfriend can borrow them for the night; pearls go with almost any formal attire. They will be perfect."

"Great, I will call and give you a time. Just remember to bring your camera. I am going to make Samuel a photo album to commemorate Sammie's busting out party."

@ @ @ @

On the short drive to their quaint split level home, Sam prepared for her performance. A talent she had since childhood was her ability to cry on demand. Sitting in her driveway, Samantha took her mascara out and applied an extra heavy coat, knowing the visual effects would be dramatic. 'This must be convincing, if I want to trap the fly in my web,' thought Samantha. She walked to the front door, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders — getting into character. She paused as she held the doorknob, took a deep breath and prepared for her dramatic entrance.

Samuel was waiting for her with a highball. Samantha snatched the drink out of his hand and spilled some on the rug. She took a large gulp of the drink and ordered her husband, "Clean that up before it stains the carpet." She headed for the couch, slumped down into the cushions as if exhausted and right on cue turned on the water works.

Samantha thought, 'and the game is afoot.' She wiped the tears from her cheeks intentionally creating sizeable dark smudges under her eyes. She looked at her husband with large puppy dog eyes and asked him "Let me make sure what you are asking of me, you want me to pretend to be a single, unattached woman, use my womanly charms, and act as a courtesan for our potential client?"

"For the last time Samantha, that is not what I am asking. Yes, I would love for you to charm him. But only as his companion."

Samantha snorted at the remark, "Companion, consort, courtesan, or concubine...A rose by any other name. Your implied mission for me is the same. Just admit it. What you want is a big-booby, blonde floozy to show this guy a good time."

By this time, Samuel was emotionally spent. He questioned if he was ready to trade his marriage for the company. He knew he had to do something to show how contrite he was.

"Sam, I am so sorry. Let's forget the whole thing, the implants and the blind date. I will call Mr. Wolfgang von Goethe and cancel his invitation. I will call our lawyer in the morning about declaring bankruptcy."

Hearing Samuel make that statement touched her deeply and she loved him for it. But her husband needed to be taught this lesson. She knew that what she had planned for him would do him no harm. Hell, it might even open his eyes to new horizons.

"Samuel, you'll do no such thing! This impacts me more than you. It's my company too and more importantly it's my body and virtue that are at stake. I'm going through with the breast augmentation and the date. I am going to be so sweet to Mr. Wolfgang he will leave here with diabetes.

"Now get your coat and wallet! After I repair my face, you are taking me shopping. I'm going to buy an outfit that will make his eyes pop out of his sexist skull."

@ @ @ @

Thirty minutes later, Sam and Sam were browsing the local mall. They hit every upscale dress shop in the place. Samantha knew exactly what she wanted, a pink, girlie-girl party dress with tons of fluffy lace. It had to be skintight with a front that dipped to the navel. Samantha was about to give up when she saw an advertisement for a shop called the 'Courtesan Boutique.' Sam felt it was divine intervention.

Samantha was determined to find something there. She searched every aisle, until she found a cocktail dress; it wasn't perfect; but it was close enough. It was a real showstopper, fit for a fairy Princess. The gown was bubblegum pink, had a sweetheart neckline, and was knee length with a soft nude fabric and lace overlay. It had a silk slip lining and sheer lace cap sleeves. The intricate and beautiful lace covered bodice had a pattern of small hearts interwoven throughout. Samantha knew the dress was made for Valentine's Day. She took the dress into a changing room to try on. She stepped out to model it for her husband. Even Samuel could tell it was too tight.

"Honey, I think you need a bigger size."

"This is the largest they have in stock. At home, I have a good steel boned corset; that's guaranteed to squeeze the wearer into a perfect hourglass figure.

Sam thought, 'That's strange, I've never seen my wife in a girdle, more or less a corset. Oh well, she's the expert, she knows what she's doing.'

Having redressed Samantha stepped out and remarked, "We'll need a new bra. My old ones will never be able to contain the massive tits you envision for this outing."

Samantha spent some time searching for just the right foundation garment. Eventually she found what she wanted, a padded underwire pushup bra covered in delicate lace. The cups were stiff and firm. Knowing her husband had a 40 inch chest she purchased a 38; figuring it would add to her husband's discomfort and increase the effectiveness of the pushup function. Samantha mused, 'I would never wear anything like that. It will be massively uncomfortable, tantamount to torture after a few hours; by the end of the evening Sammie is going to be begging to take it off. The question is will I be the one to help or will his date?'

Showing the garment to her husband Samantha bragged, "This will add the appearance of at least two cup sizes. The tag says wearing this you'll have the tits of a Los Vegas showgirl. I am sure the resulting display of flesh will appeal to our client's macho side. It will be like offering him a set of boobs on a velvet table. I know it's outrageously expensive; but I think it'll pay huge dividends. What do you think honey?"

Samuel pictured his wife as a centerfold in his head and graciously replied, "Samantha you are the expert, if you need it, by all means then get it."

"Oh, yes dear, we'll definitely need it. You'll see."

Delighted with her purchases so far, Samantha moved on to search for appropriate accouterments. She found crystal earrings that would dangle gracefully from ears and were heavy and long enough where the wearer would be conscious of their presence at all times.

Their next stop was a perfumery to select a scent. Samuel recommended several choices. Samantha rejected each until she found an extremely heavy flowery scent. It was over the top. No normal woman would wear it. But Sam wasn't buying it for a 'normal' woman.

The last stop was a self serve shoe store. Finding the section with just the right color, Sam turned to her husband and asked his advice on the heel length. Samuel shrugged his shoulders and picked up a pair of shoes with blocky three inch heels. "These are like the ones I wore for the company party."

Samantha scoffed at his suggestion and replied, "That dress calls for something more glamorous, and, dare I say, elegant. She held up a shoe with a five and half inch needle heel that was identical in color to the dress. Samuel had never seen anything so feminine in his life. His wife's normal footwear selections for work were flats, on fancy occasions she would wear at most two inch heels.

"Honey, those are the most beautiful footwear I have ever seen; but how in the world will you be able to walk in them. They are more like stilts than shoes."

Sam gave her husband a wicked little smile and replied, "Samuel, the night of the dance I assure you I'll have absolutely no problem getting around."

Sam brought her hand to her face to cover her giggles as see pictured her husband trying to dance backwards in those shoes. 'Ginger Rogers he's not.' She mused.

After a meal from a fast food restaurant, Samantha drove them home. She left Samuel to unload the car. Sam carried everything into their bedroom and thought how happy his wife seemed. Seeing Samantha get into selecting her trousseau for the big dance was a joy. He didn't remember her spending that much energy for their wedding.

The next few days were close to normal. If it wasn't for that damn vibrator on Samantha's night stand, life would have been perfect. Saturday, Samuel was tasked with stripping the bed and putting on fresh bedding. As he finished the last hospital corner he checked to make sure the coast was clear. Then he casually tiptoed to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and somehow that spiteful vibrator accidently fell into the opening.

Sam was felling very self-satisfied until he was brushing his teeth that night when his wife yelled, "Darling, have you been playing with my new toy? I can't find it."

'Shit' thought Samuel. "No dear I have no idea where the dildo is. I'll be right in and help you look."

While he gargled Samantha called, "Never mind I found it. Take your time; there is no reason to hurry, and it's not called a dildo. It's a waterproof personal massager. At least that is what the salesman told me."

At that, Samuel swallowed a mouthful of Listerine.

He came in still coughing and Samantha said sympathetically, "Oh dear, "I hope you aren't coming down with a bug."

"No, something just went down the wrong way."

@ @ @ @

Sunday was a time to relax. Samuel slept in. He got up to find Samantha reading the newspaper. Samuel was about to sit and join her, when Samantha reminded him it was his turn to grocery shop, mentioning the list was on the kitchen table. Sam picked up the small paper, one glance at the list and Sam broke out in a cold sweat. Number one on the list was a 'Six pack' of C batteries.

Several hours later, Sam lugged the bags of groceries into the kitchen and unloaded them into the pantry. Suddenly Samantha was there; she pushed her husband aside and reached around him and snatched the batteries that had been strategically placed on the top shelf. Without saying a word she disappeared into the bedroom and pointedly closed the door.

@ @ @ @

The day for Samantha's appointment with the surgeon finally arrived. She pretended to be nervous about the prospect of the surgery and insisted she needed Samuel to accompany her for the consult. Sitting there with the cosmetic surgeon, she answered all of the questions he asked about her medical history. Unlikely as it seems both and their medical histories were unremarkable and with the exception of the Chicken Pox, were identical.

When the time came to discuss what work was to be done, Dr. Smith asked Samantha to remove her top so that he could examine her torso to determine what options were available.

Samuel got up to leave, but Samantha requested that he remain.

"You’re an extremely healthy woman with good musculature tone, which gives us a wide option. Just how large dto you want your breasts to be Mrs. Johansson?"

"Why…I don't really know, I'm undecided at the moment." she replied as she looked at Samuel.

"Honey, this is your fantasy. What size should we get?"

Samuel looked like a deer-in-the-headlights for a moment. The last thing he'd expected to be asked by his wife was what size her breasts were to be. He had visions of a well-endowed wife, but deciding for her was not something he was prepared to do.

He stammer, "I…I don't know, something large, maybe a C cup?"

Samantha giggled at her husband. "Silly! C cups are mundane and average, think more grandiose."

"I guess D then?" he said tentatively. Like every other husband on the planet, he had no idea what the differences were between a C or D cup. All he cared about is how they would feel in his hands while he made love to his wife.

Samantha nodded thoughtfully for a moment and said, "Well…As long as we are doing this, let's do it right and go all out and get DD's. Is that workable doctor?"

She looked at the surgeon for his opinion. After a few moments study, he looked up into her eyes and said, "Yes, your frame can easily support a double-D cup. I wouldn't recommend it; but your body could handle a double-E cup if you wanted to go that extreme."

Samantha smiled at the doctor and thought, 'This couldn't have been any better if she had planned it.'

"Doctor I don't know about double-E cups, why don't we keep that as an option for now, I will get back to you on it." The doctor handed the consent forms to Samantha, "Write the size you finally decide on, initial next to the box and bring them the day of the surgery. My nurse will provide you with a schedule of my availability."

All smiles Samantha redressed in her bra and blouse. She looked over at Samuel, he smiled broadly. It was obvious to Samantha that Samuel thought his fondest fantasies were about to be fulfilled.

@ @ @ @

The next couple of weeks were filled with the normal business problems of solving various marketing issues, redirecting staff as priorities changed, and making sure that everything was on track for the Valentine's party. Of course, the party was still three weeks away; but there were hundreds of small details that Samantha needed to attend to. Were the caterers were on track, was the hall available and the band was prepared to show up.

Samantha had been paying attention to her health and had been feeling progressively worse as the week had gone on. As bad as she was starting to feel, she mentally rubbed her hands together. Knowing what was wrong with her, it only required a doctor's confirmation of her own diagnosis. Right before lunch, Samantha called Samuel to tell him that she was not feeling well and that she was going off to see the doctor.

Samuel was concerned for her, but he was stuck in preparations for a client presentation and could not break away and go with her. She was not so ill yet that she could not drive herself to her appointment and she really did not want Samuel to be there for this particular meeting anyway.

The doctor's visit had gone pretty much the way Samantha expected. He checked her temperature, blood pressure, and she was sure that when the doctor was done looking at her throat that he could tell her the color of her panties. He had scolded her for allowing herself to be exposed, knowing that she had no immunity. But he had reassured her that the medications he had prescribed would help her with her fever and the blisters. He also instructed her to take pains to use lotion on the blisters and not to scratch. Properly chastened, Samantha could only agree quietly. She took the materials the doctor gave her and drove home.

The first thing she did was call Betty for help. Her school friend laughed good-naturedly when Samantha gave her the news. "I was waiting for your call, girlfriend! I've lined up my mother to take the kids for the next few days, so I'll set up camp in your spare bedroom as your private nurse."

Relieved that her plan had not been derailed, Samantha answered, "Thank you for being willing to help me. I'm starting to have second thoughts. This may not have been one of my better plans." Her tone of voice carried a fair amount of anxiety.

"Hey! Things are going to be fine. We just have to watch over your fever and keep you from scratching. This will all be over in less than a week. I'll dump the kids at my mother's, throw my bags in the car and be there as quick as I can." Betty rang off and rounded up her gang of manikins to march to the neighbor's house.

Meanwhile, Samantha called Samuel on his cell phone to break the news to him. Interestingly, she sounded sooo much worse on the phone with him than with Betty, almost as if she had no strength left at all. Samuel and Betty arrived at the house in a dead heat. Betty introduced herself to Samuel and announced she was here to nurse Samantha back to health. Glad for the help, Samuel carried her things to the spare bedroom.

Inside, they found a pale, pathetic-looking Samantha sprawled on the couch under a pile of blankets, a stack of used tissues balanced on her chest. She had made sure to clean off of her makeup and she had then added just a dusting of white foundation. The result was a Samantha that looked like she had been suffering for days.

"Sam! Are you okay?" The concern for his wife was apparent in his voice as he rushed to her side.

"Yes, honey," she said, her voice sounding weak. "The doctor gave me some prescriptions, but I didn't get them filled before I came home. They're supposed to help me. Could you go to the pharmacy for me?" She looked up at Samuel, turning on the sad, puppy-dog look.

"Of course, dear," he said, hugging her gently. He looked over at Betty and said, "I'll go get her prescriptions filled and pick up some lotion. Can you watch her until I get back?"

Betty smiled, "Sure, Would you also pick up a case of water and some Gatorade? Samantha is going need a lot of fluids in the next few days." Samuel nodded and was out the door with the prescriptions in minutes.

Once his car was down the drive, Samantha sat up on the couch and grinned playfully at Betty. "Well, we're off!" Betty returned her smile and she sat down to finish their preparations.

@ @ @ @

Samuel found Betty fussing around Samantha, trying to make her more comfortable on the couch. He brought her the medicine bottles and shook out the pills for her. While she swallowed them all and he put the bottles away in the bath, Betty made herself scarce by establishing herself in the extra bedroom as Samantha's nurse for the next week.

When he returned, Samantha continued her routine of appearing oh-so pathetic. "Honey, I'm sorry I'm so sick."

"It's okay, Sam," he said, kneeling next to her. "I'll call the doctor and call off the surgery. We can't delay it and have you healed up in time for the party now."

Samantha was prepared for this turn of events and appeared to regain some of her strength, her eyes danced with mischief as she said, "But honey, we need Mr. von Goethe as a client! Without that account as you pointed out we will lose everything. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Samuel admitted. "I couldn't find a good date for him before and I'm sure that will be the case again. It's also too late to call and cancel his invitation. I guess that we will just have to deal with him without finding him a companion."

Sam recognized she was going to have to rely on her skills acquired in two years of drama club. Sam's eyes narrowed as Samuel cavalierly said 'companion'. It just seemed to sound like so much more than just a dancing partner. It let her harden her heart somewhat to what she needed to do next.

"But, we need him to sign the contract Samuel! We have to find him a date! His man made that very clear."

"But you can't go through with the surgery Sam. There is no way the doctor would okay you for it now."

Samantha appeared to think for a moment and then her expression brightened. "I know!" Then she slumped down again and said, "No. That wouldn't work. That's just too crazy to even imagine."

Samuel, like the desperate man that he was, took the bait and said, "What is it? At this point, I'm willing to try anything to save our company."

Samantha lied outrageously as she said, "Samuel, I want you to know this gives me no pleasure. The only possible solution is for you to have the surgery and take my place at the party."

Samantha braced herself for the possible repercussions from her appeal, the air charged with anticipation. Her husband was in was in a state of shock, kneeling with his mouth hanging open, his eyes open but not seeing.. After several minutes with no response, Samantha had to act. With an eerie calmness to her voice Samantha repeated herself, changing it to a 'demand' this time.

The fuse was lit; the expected explosion of opposition erupted. "Do you have a screw loose? You have to be kidding! There's no way I could do that! I'd be a laughingstock!"

Playing the scene to the fullest, Samantha slunk down into the couch and pulled the bedding up to her chin. "Your right dear, you couldn't possibly pass as my twin. It must be the fever speaking. Unlike you, I'm just trying to find a solution, not whining about how it can't be done."

Pausing for effect, she then smirked and pleaded with her eyes as her tears broke free and flowed down her cheeks like hot lava. She coughed, once and then used a tissue to wipe her runny nose. She pleaded with her husband as if she were talking to a confused toddler, pulling his attention from contemplating his potential humiliation. "Samuel, that's not true and you know it! We're the same height and build, with identical coloring. You did it before. Remember the New Year's Eve party? You fooled everyone, the people we work with on a daily bases couldn't tell us apart.

"We would need to pluck your eyebrows and do a good job on your makeup. This time it would be even easier. Mr. von Goethe does not know you. You would go as me; I would be there as your business partner to help with our sales pitch. I'll make myself look different, less feminine. You could talk to him about the company and if your theory about men and tits are correct, all you will have to do is show him a good time and you'll have his signature on a contract by the end of the night."

"I don't know Samantha, giving me boobs sounds rather drastic."

"Nonsense, they come out as easy as they go in. You could have them removed as soon as the contract is signed."

Then to dangle a carrot for her husband Samantha added, "I could get mine done to whatever size you want at the same time you have yours undone. Max would never be the wiser."

Then to seal the deal Samantha gave her husband those puppy dog eyes, she reserved only for special occasions.

Samantha could see that Samuel was contemplating her plan; however he had become morose and glum, apprehension was written all over his face. Although the walls were still very much intact, she could see the cracks beginning to spider at a hurried pace. Slowly but surely, brick by brick, the barriers were beginning to show wear. She thought he was wavering so she needed to press her attack.

With a coy smile Samantha said, "Remember what you said. 'If he's concentrating on your boobs, it will be easier to get him to sign on the dotted line.' Getting him to sign with us is the only way to save our company and the jobs of all of our friends and employees. Its two out, bottom of the ninth, the scores tied, the basses are loaded and you're at bat. The only one, who can bring the runner home, is you."

Samuel knelt at his wife's side for the longest time just staring off into space.

Finally, Samuel's resistance to undergoing his wife's cosmetic surgery evaporated faster than a snowflake landing on a hot stone. With a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders he said, "Okay, I'll do it. But will you still respect me?"

Samantha smiled at him, letting herself surrender to the fatigue of fighting her illness. "I'm proud of you dear. Not many guys would take one for the team, like this."

Samuel smiled for the first time and said, "That's strange I always thought they came in pairs."

Samantha laughed and pulled her husband in for a hug as she replied, "You're right. We should say you're taking two for the team."

Sam relaxed against her pillows, pulled the blankets up. Just before drifting off to sleep, she said, "Remember what you said to me! It's imperative that he has a good time. I expect you to do only what you are comfortable with. You know, flirt, laugh at his jokes, dance with him, and hold his hand; of course there will be the obligatory goodnight kiss or two."

Then unable to resist twisting the knife just a little she added, "Tongue is optional. Just don't come home pregnant. How we would explain that to our parents?"

As she fell into a fever induced slumber, Samuel sat back on his haunches and watched his wife sleep with the chill of foreknowledge there would be hell to pay. He squirmed at being hoist on his own petard.

@ @ @ @

Betty woke Samantha up the next morning with a breakfast of tea and toast.

With Samuel at work they were free to talk, "Tell me, is he going to do it? This is going to be so much fun. I have a million ideas of how we can make him look like a big-boobed transvestite hooker."

"Whoa there cowgirl, reign in that kind of talk. We seem to have a misunderstanding. This little drama is being played out, first and foremost to save our company. If I can teach my husband a valuable lesson in the process so much the better. I will not do anything to intentionally humiliate him. Now along the way if he gets himself into an embarrassing situation I won't complain. He is misguided; but not a bad person. In fact, he has a heart of gold. You are not going to tease him about this. If you do I will have to ask you to leave."

"We have a day and a half before he goes under the knife. I need your help in bolstering his self-confidence, so he doesn't get cold feet and back out."

Betty knew what she had to do. "Do you have any more of those New Year Eve party pictures in digital form?"

"Yes, there is a folder on my laptop."

"Give me thirty minutes and I'll create something we can use. I'm a wizard with Photoshop; remove imperfections and blemishes, change skin tones, enhance colors. I can takes inches off here, add them there. Not to brag, I can make Phyllis Diller look like a playboy bunny, if that's what you want."

By three o'clock, Betty had her slide show completed and the computer hooked up to the TV in the den.

Samuel dragged in several hours later. His body language told Samantha he was having serious doubts. "Sam, you're not still worried about pulling off our trading places are you?"

"I've thought this through. There's no way; up close I can convince anyone I'm a woman."

"You've seen magic acts. The secret is misdirection. A good magician fools his audience. A great one makes them believe. You keep his attention focused on your massive hooters and not only will you fool Max, by night's end he will believe you are and have always been Samantha. I have already talked to the girls at the office; they will get everyone to play along. With their help, and lots of makeup it'll be easypeasy!"

"Wait not so fast. You told the girls at the office I was getting a boob job? How could you? They will never respect me again!"

"Relax, you are still the owner, they will respect your position, even if there is an occasional snicker behind your back. There was some discussion of the motivation behind your behavior, whether it was caused by lust or envy.

"They won't give you away; I explained why you are doing this. After a few perfunctory giggles, they settled down. I don’t think they understand how close they are to losing their jobs. Your personal assistant, Mary even asked if she should get your office repainted in pink and asked now that you have your own set of bazookas will you stop staring at all the girls."

"No offense, having a bunch of employees calling me Samantha hardly will be convincing."

"You're right; but having the girls fawn over your hair and makeup, gossip with you and ask where you got the dress - that kind of stuff will help. They will even include you in their conversations and other girlie activities such as inviting you to the powder room. We have this all worked out. It will support the illusion we are creating."

Samantha still sensed doubt, "Let's not skirt the issue, Betty and I will teach you everything you need to know, after all we have almost a week."

Samuel sighed, "A whole week to pickup what has taken you a lifetime to learn. That shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh ye of little faith, we have a plan. Come Friday, the new and improved Samantha will not only be ready, but eager for her first date."

Not giving Samuel a chance to digest what she said, Sam continued, "Using our pictures from New Year's Eve, Betty has worked up a little show to build your confidence."

Betty went over and turned on the computer and television, "Samuel I went through your photos, I cropped out a dozen pictures of you and Samantha. I have talked it over with Samantha and if you can tell me which ones are you and which ones are Samantha she will call the whole thing off. Deal?"

Betty quickly ran through the slide show, not allowing him time to closely examine any of them. Samuel felt he was twisting in the wind and realized he was going to need a new antiperspirant.

"Do it again, please."

The second time through, Betty allowed Samuel all the time he wanted to make his selections. Some he was sure of; but most he reluctantly admitted to himself he had to guess.

"Well how'd I do?"

Samantha doubled over laughing. "Sweetheart, we tricked you. Every one of those is you. If you can't tell it's not me, then no one else will."

"I don't think it's that funny; but your point is well taken. However there is a huge difference from posing for still photographs and convincingly portraying a woman in a face to face situation."

"Betty hand him my computer. Honey we have spent most of the day bookmarking female impersonator sites. They are full of advice on 'passing'. Betty and I will tutor you in feminine mannerisms. From now until Valentine's Day, you lose your man card. You are hereby officially enrolled in Betty and Sam's finishing school for young ladies. By the way, this is strictly a pass-fail course."

@ @ @ @

The time had come to leave for the hospital. Sam's head was overwhelmed with the requirements of mastering all these new procedures and skill sets, there was so much to remember; he was drilled endlessly in the nuances of how to stand, walk, sit, and talk. It was not easy to unlearn a life time of habits and mannerisms. Samuel put everything he had into it. Their financial future depended on him.

At night, he fell into bed totally exhausted. Samantha was so understanding and considerate. Despite her lingering illness she was still there advising and correcting his every failing, never harshly, always with a smile and cheerful suggestion. Betty was a stern taskmaster; but also a caring mentor, never satisfied until each task was completed flawlessly. As a team the two ladies nicely complimented each other. After just one day, Samuel began to feel he might be able to carry off the charade.

Samantha ran a hot shower for her husband, got the temperature just right. They stepped in together; Samantha took the shaving cream and a razor and helped remove the few sparse hairs on his back and shoulders. Kissed him on the neck, handed the cream and razor to Samuel and backed out of the shower saying, "I'll leave the rest to you. Call when you are dressed, we don't have a lot of time."

He stood in their bedroom having just gotten out of the shower, where he had shaved all over as Samantha required. Even his underarms, which Samuel thought was overkill but he did as he was told just hoping this, would be over soon. He sat and combed his damp hair and put it in a feminine ponytail as he had been practicing. Standing, he wondered who the androgynous creature was that he saw in the mirror. He shivered and felt emasculated when he realized it was only his reflection. Proceeding to the bed, he packed the overnight bag Samantha had left out for him. He threw in a change of clothes, underwear, and white tube socks. He was ready to close it when Samantha walked in, took one look at it contents and dumped them on the bed.

"Sammie! What are you doing? These are totally inappropriate. There is no way you can come home wearing a man's flannel shirt and cutoff Levi shorts. What would the orderlies think of a person who has just undergone massive breast augmentation surgery wanting to appear in public dressed as a man?"

She filled the bag up with her toiletries and makeup and added a gorgeous floor length ivory dressing gown and matching panties, explaining they were a gift from Betty.

Samuel whined, "I can't wear that home from the hospital!"

"Don't be silly! The doctors won't release you the same day of surgery. Without complications, you will be spending at least one night there. You'll need something other than those horrid bottom-flashing hospital gowns to wear. When I come to pick you up, I'll bring a clean change of underwear, a nice dress and some comfortable shoes for you to wear coming home."

His voice quivered, "You're not staying with me?" The thought of being abandoned at the hospital apparently terrified Samuel.

Samantha reached out and held Sam's hand and soothingly replied, "No silly. You're a big girl now; you can stay by yourself for one night. Betty and I will be there first thing in the morning. We'll do your makeup and hair and help you get dressed. Everything will be fine, don't freak out on me now!"

@ @ @ @

Four hours later, Samuel was ensconced in his private room, the nurses having finished taking his pre-surgery vitals. He was instructed to relax; the doctor would be in shortly to talk with him. The medical profession's idea of time was remarkably different from the rest of mankind. Samuel sat for almost an hour. He tired of the uncomfortable visitor's chair, and he climbed into bed and tried to relax. He was having problems as he had moved beyond nervous and into panic mode.

Eventually, an elderly gentleman stopped to explain that Samuel's regular doctor had been called away on an emergency. He would be performing the procedure. He did the normal pre-checks in record time. It didn't take a trained detective to recognize he was uncomfortable with the idea of giving a man breast implants.

He nervously waved a handful of papers around. Eventually, he flipped to the last page showing the signature page to Samuel. "Mr. Johansson, your wife dropped off the consent forms. Is that your signature?"

"Yes, doctor is there a problem?"

"No, this is just a most unusual case. Do these forms accurately depict your desires? My usual patient is a young woman whose personality profile indicates psychological distress about her personal appearance and her body self image. Obviously, your case falls outside the bell curve of normalcy. I need you to confirm that you want female breast implants and not male pectoral augmentation, like most normal men ask for.

"Sorry, that sounded judgmental, I didn't intend it that way. I just want to make sure, as your doctor, that I am performing the service you want and are paying for."

Samuel nodded his assent assuming they were the forms he and Samantha had filled out the night before.

"I'm sorry Mr. Johansson; I need you to actually say the words. Then initial next to today's date. I will not ask your motivation; it is none of my business. I will tell you I am the finest breast man in the state. I guarantee you will be happy with my work. I know you will be anxious to see what they will look like, but implants this large will require your chest be heavily bandaged for several days. I will have a nurse come to your home when the supporting bandages can be safely removed. Is that clear?"

"Yes doctor, I promise to follow your instructions to the letter."

The doctor was replaced by a nurse who put in his IV and started his loopy juice. Samuel was almost out of it, when Samantha bounced into the room.

"They tell me you are about to be moved to surgery. I had to talk to you before you go. Can you remain lucid for a few minutes?"

Samuel fought to keep his eyelids open and nodded yes. Samantha sat on the edge of the bed holding a single piece of paper.

"Honey, I have some really big news that I know will make your day. You have always been a tit man, so I did you a gigantic favor. Remember those DD boobs we planned on?"

Samuel had a small rush of adrenalin, hoping for a reprieve and managed a squeak out a weak, "Yes."

"Well forget those. I found a way to get you upgraded to super size. The doctor has consented to give you a lovely pair of EE boobs. Isn't that exciting?"

Now fully awake, Samuel said, "How?"

"Well it is my understanding they make a small incision to the infra-mammary fold."

Laughing Samantha looked at her perplexed husband, "Oh that is not what you meant, sorry about that. You mean the ..."

Looking around to make sure no one could hear or see she shoved the paper in her hand under his nose and chatted on, "Oh the forgery was easy. A little liquid white out and a ballpoint pen you can turn a capital D into an E in a flash. Look you can't tell the difference."

'What the fuck, that was sobering!' thought Samuel suddenly wide awake. At that point, the orderlies showed up to take him away. Samantha leaned over and gave him a good luck kiss on the forehead. As his gurney reached the door he tried to sit up to protest, the orderlies firmly pushed him back.

Samantha said, "You can thank me later. I'll see you in recovery."

Sam dozed off believing his wife had just royally screwed him and not in a good way.

@ @ @ @

Waiting in the hall was Betty. "Well how'd it go?"

"It couldn't have been better. You should have seen his face; I thought there he was going to bust a blood vessel. Our timing was impeccable a few minutes later; he would have been out cold. Any earlier and he might have had the strength to get out of bed. As it is, I almost snapped him out of his anesthesia and had him running down the hall."

Grinning ear to ear Betty said, "Of all people, he will appreciate the irony of the situation. Someone trying dictate the shape of your body. I'm sure it taught him a 'BIG' lesson."

@ @ @ @

Samuel slowly came back to the land of the living; he faded into and out of consciousness. When he finally regained his full senses, Samuel knew two things for sure. One he was in considerable pain. He was afraid to move anything except his eyeballs; every twitch brought greater discomfort to his chest. Eventually he summoned the courage to look down. He thought, 'OMG, I can't even see my feet, what have they done to me?'

Two he felt totally alone, abandoned and betrayed by his wife.

Speak of the devil; at that moment Samantha made a grand entry into the room, her bout with Chicken Pox seemingly over.

"How's my brave man doing? The doctors say you were a wonderful cooperative patient. I'm so proud of you. Your procedure was a total success. The doctor said you will be up and about in a day or so."

Samuel was in no mood for childish babble, "Water."

It came out a high whispering squeak. He thought 'Oh Crap,' as his hands flew to his throat. To Samantha his distressed look spoke volumes.

"Sorry the nurses said only ice chips for now. Don't try and talk, they had to intubate you during surgery, the tube damaged the tissues surrounding your larynx. The doctor said it will take about a week to get your old voice back. You need to rest it or risk permanent damage. For now I'll talk you nod alright?"

There was a soft knock on the door. "Oh that is probably Betty. She wanted to see how you're doing. Let me go talk to her and I'll be back."

In the hall was Betty grinning ear to ear and holding a huge bouquet of roses, "How's he doing?"

"From what I can tell he appears to be in a lot of pain."

Betty smiled, "Serves him right." She followed Samantha into the room and cheerfully said, "Hi, Samuel, I have to run, just wanted to stop in and give you these."

She intentionally arranged the flowers across his chest with the fragrant buds nestled under his chin.

Samantha rebuked her friend, "Betty, I think it's more appropriate to use Sammie from now on. He needs time to adjust to his new name. Is that okay with you honey?"

She got a noncommittal shrug.

"Are you in pain?" He again shrugged.

Samantha reached out and lightly touched his bandaged bosom. Samuel winced. "Sorry honey, I can't but think that if the Chicken Pox gods hadn't interceded I would be the one suffering instead of you. It's funny how things work out."

Trying to be sympathetic she asked, "Is Sammie in pain?"

Sammie nodded yes. She handed him a cord with a button on the end. "When you feel a need for pain meds, just push the button." He grabbed the button and repeatedly pushed it like he was a contestant on Jeopardy.

"Take it easy on the drugs; I'll leave you to get some rest. They say if you are up to it you can be discharged first thing in the morning. I'll pick you up after breakfast."

Samantha leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and heard a squeaky, "Sorry."

Samantha looked down at the face, encircled by roses and had doubts about her conduct.

"Are you sorry about the surgery?"

To Samantha's surprise he shook his head no. He pointed to his chest and managed to get out a pitiful, "Sorry I ever asked you to do this."

Samantha got the message and cried all the way to her car.

@ @ @ @

Sammie awoke the next morning with an uneasiness he couldn't describe. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he heard a sound that brought him out of his stupefaction, he propped himself up on his elbows and turned to find the source of the disturbance. It was an apparition coming through his doorway; a beautiful statuesque blonde nurse, with more curves than a Monte Carlo racetrack. With a cheerful, "Good morning," she walked in and stood and examined his chart. "How are we feeling this morning?"

Her lips twitched with a suppressed smile as she probed his chest and checked the dressings.

"Still a little uncomfortable I'll bet." She stroked his forehead and sympathetically pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. Your breakfast will be here in a minute. I'm sorry; the doctors still have you on a liquid diet."

Samantha and Betty and stood in the door way as the attractive nurse fussed around her patient.

They stepped aside to allow her to leave as she removed the breakfast tray.

Samantha watched her husband track the curvy nurse with his eyes. She could sense the lust in his eyes.

Samuel jumped at the unexpected sound of his wife's voice. "Pretty woman isn't she Samuel?"

"If you say so, I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah and I'm the Queen of England. The question is do you view her as a conquest or as competition?"

Samuels's response was to stick his tongue out at Samantha, which prompted a giggle from her.

"I've talked to the doctor, and he is incredulous. Saying you must have a high threshold of pain. He had a heck of a time fitting those large silicone bags into your chest. He has never seen a person who underwent such a drastic transformation from Twiggy to Dolly with one procedure. He anticipated you wouldn't want to leave for several days. I explained to him that you have a business function on Friday that's a must. He agreed to release you this morning if you promise to take it easy for a couple of days."

Samuel moved his head north and south like a bobble head doll.

Betty swept in like a small typhoon and set up her work station, explaining, "We are going to keep it simple this morning. The idea is to get you to the car with as little commotion as possible. We'll do just the basics, a scrunchie for you ponytail, a light foundation, with a little blush, some mascara, and of course lipstick."

While Betty packed up her things Samantha laid out Sammie's escape attire.

"Sammie I brought a matronly housedress. It's functional if not very fashionable; but is baggy enough to allow for your oversized bosom. I've also brought knee high stockings, underpants and a pair of flats. Get dressed while I make arrangements to get you transported to the car."

Standing up, Samuel was struck again with the immense mass protruding from his chest. Cupping them with his hands he squeaked, "They're huge!"

"Silly they aren't that large, a lot of what you are holding is the heavy bandages, and there is some swelling that will go down in a few days. What will be left is exactly what we ordered."

"What you ordered you mean," corrected Samuel.

Samantha grinned mischievously, "Don't be a killjoy, D, E, or F whatever; they're really impressive. I'm going to love them; I'm sure your date will get pleasure from them too."

Samuel added snidely, "I sure hope so; I'd hate to think I went through this for nothing, other than your amusement."

"There you go being all negative again. Things will work out for the best, I'm almost positive. Now I'll leave you alone to get dressed."

Samantha returned shortly and found her husband dressed with the exception of the thong panty still residing on the unmade bed.

Staring at the sexy lingerie untouched on the sheets she said in mock anger, "Why aren't you fully dressed?

"I'm not wearing those 'stupid' panties!"

Samantha smiled and said, "Alright, let me find you some 'smart' ones."

Chuckling to herself, she reached into her bag and produced a pair of women's white cotton high-cut briefs. "These better? Would you like help?"

"Yes please."

Samantha from her knees lifted one of his feet and then the other to start the panties. Samuel couldn't see what was going on because of his protruding front porch. He could only follow the action by touch. Samantha slowly, sensually pulled the panties into place. Samuel used all his self-control to control himself and just barely managed.

Betty returned followed by an orderly pushing a wheel chair. Catching Samantha on her knees with her hands up Sammie's dress she inquired, "Should we leave you two alone and come back later?"

Sammie gave his wife a hand up and sat in the chair for the short ride to the front door.

Samantha leaned in and reminded him, "Knees together."

@ @ @ @

The ride home was uneventful, except for the occasional small moans, which filter to them from the back seat every time Samantha hit a pothole.

The car stopped in their driveway. Sammie immediately headed for his bedroom to lie down. He was intercepted by Betty while Samantha unpacked the car.

"Sammie, I know you want to hold a pity party and hide in bed for the next two days that would be an egregious mistake. We don't have time for that. You have to get your feminine deportment down faultlessly or else all this effort will be for naught. We have a lot to do and I need to get home to check on my kids. So shake a leg."

While Samantha prepared dinner, Betty put Sammie through his paces. She retrieved a pair of high heels in Samuel's size the ladies had bought on the way to the hospital. She had him stand with proper posture, feet together for several minutes before progressing to walking. Once he appeared to be tiring Betty had him practice sitting and crossing his legs in a lady like manner. Betty marveled at how rapidly Samuel morphed into the Sammie persona. She thought there were two possible explanations, being a superb athlete was one, the other she still wondered if Sammie might have made more than one appearance; but it was none of her business. After all she was here to help her friend and teach a chauvinist or two a lesson while doing it.

Lessons even continued through dinner, Sammie practiced eating and drinking like a lady under the tutelage of his two sensei masters. The entire time Betty engaged him in conversation to encourage his feminine voice. Samantha noted how fortuitous it was to have his vocal cords injured at just the right time.

Samuel wondered to himself, 'If it was more than a coincidence.' He trusted Samantha; but the thought of a conspiracy between his wife and the doctor wasn't out of the question.

After dinner, Samantha cleared the dishes and did the laundry. Curiously, Betty took her husband to the bedroom. Thirty minutes later, having completed her household chores Samantha went to get ready for bed. The door to the bedroom was still closed, though not locked. She wondered what feminine exercises required privacy. She trusted her husband and Betty so she assumed the privacy was needed. She went into the guest bathroom for her shower. While she was drying off, she heard what sounded like the front door closing.

To alleviate the guilt she was feeling for her duplicity, Samantha planned on rewarding her husband with a hedonistic night of passion, aware she would need to be careful of Samuel's newest assets. She slipped on a gossamer baby doll negligee that just caressed her posterior.

Standing at the still closed bedroom door Samantha was startled to hear voices. She was sure Betty had gone home. She tried the door and opened it just enough to peak into the room. There on the bed was a blond person - her husband? - whose hair was up in large pink curlers, wearing Samantha's favorite long lace-trimmed burgundy toga nightgown; holding a sheath of paper and talking softly in a sweet melodic soprano voice. Samantha opened the door and crossed to the bed and climbed in. Sammie continued on with what Samantha now recognized were voice exercises. Lifting the edge of the nightgown, she gave Samuel a quizzical look.

"Sorry honey, for borrowing your clothes without asking. My pajamas wouldn't fit, and this is the only nightgown of yours that provided adequate breathing room for my girls. I'll take it off if it makes you feel uncomfortable."

"No leave it on, it looks better on you than me anyway. But why the curlers?"

"That was Betty's idea, as are my bangs and eyebrows. Do you like them? I told Betty she over did my brows."

Samantha looked closely; brushed aside her husband's bangs which had hid his pencil thin arched brows.

"I agree. They're rather thin; but effectively change your face and give it a much more feminine appearance."

"Oh goody!" said Samuel in a very feminine tone, much to Samantha's disbelief.

"Samuel, please stop using that voice. The doctors warned it could permanently damage your vocal cords if you didn't rest them."

"Please don't call me Samuel anymore. I would think Sammie is more appropriate for the foreseeable future, isn't that what you told Betty?"

"Lover, it was a joke, you are still my husband. Win or lose the contract, after the dance we will get your feminine assets removed and you can go back to being my Samuel full time."

That was the catalyst that sent Samuel into hysteria. He sobbed uncontrollably and wept great rivers of tears. Samantha reached out and cradled her husband, his head in her lap. She lovingly rubbed his neck as she rocked him like a baby in a crib. She waited for Samuel to regain his composure. A considerable time later Samuel raised his head from her lap. Samantha put her arm around him and pulled him to her chest and hugged him.

"Tell me what's wrong. I can't help if I don't know what the problem is."

"Samantha you don't understand. I've been over our accounts. We can't afford another surgery. We're broke, I mean dead broke. Your shopping trip for the Valentines outfit maxed out our credit cards. I used the pink slips on both our cars for a payday loan, to handle our monthly bills. I was forced to take out a second mortgage on the house to meet payroll this month. Now we have the massive hospital bills. This surgery was not cheap, the doctor insisted his fee be paid up front (excuse the pun), paying his invoice emptied our savings account. If we don't win the new contract not only are we out of business; but we are personally bankrupt and possibly homeless. At best it will be years before we become solvent. Getting me a boob-ectomy will be way down on the priority list. I am just going to have to learn to live with these outcroppings."

Samantha continued to hold her husband, just stroking her hand along his arm. The thought of losing everything scared her as much as it did Samuel; but they had been broke before. She knew that her husband was feeling it more because not only was he in danger of losing his livelihood, his home and from his perspective his manhood all in one fell swoop, a hell of a trifecta. She loved this man who had taken her place, albeit reluctantly, in the surgery he planned for her, just to provide for her, because he loved her. She fought back tears to be his pillar of support now that he needed it so badly.

"Honey, there is only one way out of this mess. We're going to win the contract." He said with a renewed confidence. We are going to wow him with our presentation, then Sammie is going to show that old man the time of his life. The next two days I'm going to put 110% effort into perfecting my feminine persona. With your help, I will become all the woman I can be. Now hold me tight, I need my beauty sleep. Samantha rubbed her husband's shoulder over the soft robe and sang in a lullaby manner, "Worst case we will still have each other, what will be will be, we'll live on love."

All thoughts of intimacy long passed, the two slept soundly holding each other.

@ @ @ @

Sammie was awakened by a hand lovingly caressing his cheek. He felt refreshed. When he went to move he discovered his was entwined in a cocoon of silk, his head rested on his wife's lap. He pried open his eyes to observe Samantha intently watching him. Sam raised his head just enough to free his tangled hair; the rollers had somehow become dislodged during the night and said, "Good morning, a penny for your thoughts."

Then he added in a light hearted manner, "I'd offer more; but that's all we have left in our checking account."

With a perfunctory laugh she said, "I was just thinking what a pretty husband I have."

"Now wait a minute, you mean handsome!"

Samantha apologized with a smile, "Sorry, you're right. I haven't had my morning coffee yet."

She kept her thoughts to herself, 'It's surprising that the simple addition of a few pounds of flab to his chest can so drastically change my perception of him. With his centerfold figure I have a hard time viewing him as handsome.'

Samantha suddenly had an epiphany as she realized, 'Just maybe Samuel has a valid point in desiring me to look more voluptuous!'

Samuel noticed her facial expression change, he sat up taking his weight off his wife and inquired, "What is it, am I hurting you?"

"No dear, I just thought of something, I'll share it with you later. I'm hungry let's go make breakfast. You brew the coffee and toast an English muffin. I'll make us eggs and bacon."

Sammie stood and thought about changing out of his wife's nightgown but gave up when he couldn't decide what to replace it with. Entering the kitchen, his first action was to retrieve an apron from the hook in the laundry room; the last thing he wanted to spoil the day with was a dirty nightgown. Once it was on, he asked Samantha to tie it in the back, a request that brought a twinkling smile to her eyes.

Lingering over their coffee, Samantha dropped a bombshell, "I got a text from the doctor's office. The nurse will be her at 8 to check on you. If all is well, they hope to remove the heavy bandages."

"Will you be here for the unveiling? I would feel much better about it if you were."

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away. I will stay with you until Betty arrives to continue your deportment training."

Samuel suddenly felt like a puppy being potty trained; but let it go. He knew Samantha's comment had no malice in it.

Patting her lips with a napkin she went on, "Then I have to get to the office, one of us needs to be there. Let's get this mess cleaned up and go find you something more appropriate to wear."

Fifteen minutes later Sammie sat on the bed, comfortable in Samantha's clothing selection. His outfit consisted of a knee length black fleece multicolored Tartan wool skirt, with side slit pockets. The top was a white belted loose fitting cotton shirt blouse. That was fine; unfortunately because of his hulking bosom he could not fasten the top three buttons. He was wearing pantyhose for the first time. Not a totally unpleasant experience. Once the hose were up, he secured them in place at his waist. He tucked his man parts back into place and smoothed his dress back down. Then he ran his hands over his legs, slowly caressing each one.

Sammie smoothed his skirt under him and sat on the bed. Samantha knelt at his feet where she held his shoes.

Remembering back to his last unpleasant experience in heels Sammie squirmed.

"Sit still, I'll help. These slippers are Cinderella tested. They will make you feel like a fairy." Choking on her small gaff Sam continued…"Sorry, I meant to say fairy princess."

Samantha slid his manly feet into the shoes. She buckled the straps, and ensured they were securely fastened.

"Unlike your last pair of heels where you borrowed mine on New Year's Eve, these are in your size. They are nothing outlandish, just an open toed sandal with a solid three inch block heel and ankle straps for added stability.

Sammie groaned thinking back to when he spent six hours in heels. His toes hurt for days afterwards.

The doorbell rang and Samantha sprung to her feet, "Wait here, I'll bring the nurse in."

Minutes later, a stern looking woman entered carrying a black doctor's bag. She took a look around and turned her head to speak to Samantha behind her. "This will work. Please turn on the overhead light."

Turning to Sammie she said, "Young lady please stand and remove your blouse."

A deflated Sammie, totally ashamed assumed his most feminine stance and waited further instructions. The nurse opened her bag and removed a pair of bandage scissors. Before she made her first cut she turned to Samantha, "Madam, I am going to have to ask you to leave, patients privacy and all that."

"But I'm family! I'm his...umm her sister."

"Sorry rules are rules."

Samuel spoke up in his most commanding voice, "Please I would like her here. In fact I insist!"

"It's highly irregular, but alright."

Nurse Cratchit, as Sam thought of her, made quick work cutting through the ace bandages supporting Sammie's massive mammary glands. She ran her fingers under the dressings to ensure they were free. She turned Sammie to face the window for maximum light. She clasped a hold of the dressings and jokingly said, "Drum roll please."

She slowly almost maidenly so, as far as Samantha was concerned, uncovered her husband's chest. Once they were fully exposed Samantha let out an unplanned gasp. A very concerned Samuel covered his chest with his hands and turned to his wife and asked. "What's wrong?"

A very flustered and self-conscious Samantha stuttered out, "Sorry there's nothing wrong. I'm just astounded. Those are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The nurse gave Samantha a reproachful glance as she stepped to Sammie and reassuringly said, "I'm almost done. Relax I promise I won't do anything to hurt you. I need to give you a simple breast exam. It's nothing any young woman like you hasn't experienced a dozen times."

Sammie flinched as the nurse reached up and placed her cold hands on Sammie's newly minted boobs. Samuel stood there, and held his breath, nervous as the nurse gently moved his breasts from side to side and up and down. Then, when Samuel thought it was finished, she squeezed them like she was checking ripe fruit.

"I just had to check that no seepage had taken place. Just one more thing then I'll be done."

The nurse reached up and pinched each nipple in turn, and watched for a reaction from her patient, saying, "I needed to make sure they retained their sensitivity, are you having any problems?"

"Problems, you've got to be kidding? You have grafted beach balls on my chest that are as heavy as two sandbags. What possible problems could I be having?"

Samantha stood there the entire time with an enigmatic smile and said, "Let me apologize for her. She is a bit high strung and I'm sure didn't mean anything by that. You have done an awe-inspiring job. Her body makes Aphrodite jealous. They are perfectly symmetrical, with no sage or droop at all. They're faultless. Samantha briefly wondered what she would have looked like if Samuels's original plan had gone through.

Nurse Cratchit lifted one breast and let it fall. "The skin is still taut and they will remain perky like that for a while. However the large size and weight of the implants will cause them to sag eventually. I wouldn't recommend her going without a good support bra, the consequences can be severe."

Samantha rummaged through dresser and produced a white lacy bra, holding it up she said "Got that covered."

Samantha threw the bra at Sammie and said, "Put that on while I show the nurse out."

Samantha returned to find her husband standing in the exact same spot staring at the bra.

"Why haven't you put it on?"

"There must be some mistake; the label says this is size 40 DD. You gave me EE size implants. This will never fit.

Samantha broke out in a belly laugh, "April Fools!"

A confused Samuel said; "But it's February?"

"Sam, I would never modify your body without your permission. It was only a practical joke."

Sam glared at his wife, "Do you see me laughing?"

Samantha momentarily panicked and thought she may have gone too far.

Samuel broke the tension by saying, "Touché, I owe you one. Would you help me with my new bra?"

Betty showed up minutes after Samantha left for work.

Betty took one look at his footwear, the same ones he wore last night and asked his opinion on them.

Samuel commented to Betty he thought the shoes felt extremely clumsy, but were very practical.

Her response was, "I'm glad we agree they are unacceptable for today's exercises."

Sam thought, 'I never said that.'

"I understand you've had some experience in high heels so we aren't starting from scratch. Today you'll wear the sleek stilettos you help Samantha pick out."

"You can't be serious, those things will be impossible to walk in. You'll never get my feet to fit in them. Her unsympathetic response was, "We ladies are way ahead of you. That's where I went this morning. I exchanged them for your size. With your limited experience in heels this high, I expect your first steps to be a little awkward, after a short-time you will be walking taller and more serene in these heels. Indeed, all heels naturally re-align the body into a more feminine shape by shifting the weight onto the balls of the feet and pushing the buttocks slightly out. Our objective over the next two days is to teach you to walk with catwalk confidence."

"Let's get you out of those training wheels and into your dancing shoes."

Once she finished lashing them to his feet. Sammie complained, "These aren't very comfortable."

Betty chuckled, "Sammie, five inch heels that are comfy? They don't exist! We'll have to work with what we have."

Sammie stood up in the tendon-stretching shoes, and nearly pitched over forward. He sat back down totally embarrassed. He stood again, this time Betty held out her hand to aid him in standing. Sam felt the subtle changes, the reshaping of his legs, thighs and tummy. Flushed with the success of standing Sam tried a single step, and stumbled.

Betty laughed and saved him from falling.
A disheartened Samuel, thought back to the endless hours of schooling for New Year Eve and wondered if they were all for nothing. Then he said to Betty, "I'm glad you're enjoying my humiliation. Samantha drilled me endlessly in walking in heels; those were 3 inch pumps with a chunky heel, does two inches make that much difference in how a woman walks?"

Betty though, 'Actually this is fun.' But she said instead, "Don't worry about one small stumble. Mastering stilettos is essential to get the most out of your feminine persona. Despite your previous experience it will take some getting used to tottering around with the added height. We'll concentrate on the basics."

For almost an hour Sam did nothing but stand erect in his new footwear, concentrating on his posture and bearing, while practicing his feminine voice. Eventually, Betty advised, "Try to walk across the room, remember, to stand up straight with your shoulders back. Walk heel to toe with small steps and strides."

Samuels's first steps were tentative and a tad unstable, until his confidence grew.

"Remember Sammie, women walk slower and more graceful than men, think of a slowly flowing stream. Your head must not move, keep it still as you walk. Train yourself to place the heel of the foot down first, then your toes, keep most of your weight balanced on the ball of your foot rather than on the heel. It may feel strange, but keeping much of your weight on the ball of the foot gives you more of an elegant stride. It's almost like walking on your tippy-toes. Keep your legs, feet and knees as close together as you can. Take steps half as long as you would normally. Imagine a white line projecting from your position to your destination. Concentrate on stepping on that line. Your footprints should form a single line. Don't make your strides too large as this will make you look awkward and ungraceful. However avoid taking just baby steps. Remember to swing your hips."

The next hour was spent strolling about the room in heels. His tentativeness soon turned to self-assurance.

Sam's athletic background became apparent, once he stopped thinking about each movement and let his natural gracefulness takeover he had the walk down like he had been doing it his entire life. He wasn't ready for the catwalk, but he strutted in heels better than most housewives' and his posture was superb. He paraded across the room with a womanly wiggle to his hips without having to force it. This gave his body that characteristic swing. Sam was delighted at himself.

"Well how'd I do?"

"I'm your coach not your cheerleader. Keep practicing until it becomes second nature."

Sam was kept on his feet until Samantha arrived home, with takeout Chinese. The rest of the night was spent on sitting and standing in heels. This time both women provided critical feedback. Samantha took over as head mistress by lecturing, "Position yourself with the back of your calves next to the chair. Bend at the hips and knees. Smooth your skirt under you, keeping your legs together at all times. Then swivel into position. Sit down with your legs straight in front of you. Angle your knees to either side, left or right, whatever. Cross your ankles. When there is no table, fold your hands together in your lap."

Sammie mastered that in a matter of minutes.

For a real treat he was allowed to sit long enough to practice crossing his legs at the knees a hundred times.

He topped off this exercise with a dramatic dangle of a stiletto on one toe. He thought, 'A hot bath is going to fill great.'

Betty leaned in to Samantha and commented, "I am astounded how rapidly he is picking all this up. I wouldn't want my husband around Sammie. Aren't you the least bit surprised at his transformation?"

"In December our company was enmeshed in a malaise of mediocrity. I decided we needed to do something to break that cycle. Samuel was the first to suggest a costume party. I even scrounged up a set of life like boobs and glued them onto my husband. You should have seen him at the party, all decked out, he was a living doll. I came up with the idea for us to dress alike, thinking it would be good for morale; Samuel would prance around like a cheap drag queen. He took everyone by surprise. It was like he had a personality transplant. My normal introspective husband turned into a social butterfly. He repeatedly made his way across the room, smiling and flirting with everyone. He would sit and shared bits and pieces of non-important information in his Sammie persona, which shocked and amused our employees. People were attracted to him in droves."

"He had way too much to drink, he claims to remember almost nothing of the night - I can attest to the fact he had a three-day hangover. He even shut down the party, having finished the last of the tequila. He climbed onto the bar and did a very respectable imitation of Coyote Ugly table dance."

"He embarrassed the hell out of me; but his performance received great accolades and a standing ovation. That's a long way of answering your question, no I am not surprised."

The womanification of Samuel continued long into the evening. Samantha and Betty became bored, Sammie had ceased to make obvious errors and they had nothing to do but watch and heap praise on his performance. Samantha yawned and suggested they all call it a night and Sammie was sent to the bedroom. Sam and Betty chatted for a few minutes and discussed the day's exercises. "Sam, he is as ready as he will be. You have that presentation for the client in the morning right?"

"Yes, at 9 a.m."

"I suggest you get a good night's sleep."

Sam smiled devilishly, "Betty I need something to help me sleep and it's not Lunesta. What with me being angry at Sam and then being sick, I haven't had a good romp in the hay for almost two weeks. Normally Samuel is the aggressive one, not tonight. I'm going to be a lioness and devour him like a lonely antelope in the Serengeti."

Betty blushed, she and her husband only made love on the weekends. "Alright, be careful not to break anything. How about we meet for lunch after your presentation? We can meet at our favorite restaurant. Cheeseburgers on me."

Samantha changed into a silk leopard print nightgown. Used eyeliner and heavy eye shadow to created cat eyes and then heavily dosed herself with her best perfume. Stood at the bedroom door, didn't see any light shining under the door and thought, 'That's perfect; I prefer to hunt in the dark.'

She swung open the door and pounced in prepared to wake her husband with a growl. All she got out was Greee.... To her surprise the room wasn't dark. There were a dozen aroma candles strategically placed around the room. On top of satin sheets was her husband wearing a bold red gossamer, diaphanous, hell it was transparent teddy and matching panties. His blond locks were fanned out on the pillow; he had on a heavy coat of red lipstick that complimented his outfit.

Samantha slowly took stock of her husband; her eyes magically focused on his magnificent chest. It was obvious he was anticipating her arrival. His cock was painfully tumescent and stretched his panties to their limit, plus his nipples stood up like two proud pillars of flesh as if calling to her. To exacerbate the situation, Sammie arched his back and pushed his chest out to emphasize his assets.

The material, rather than flow over his chest, stuck to his every curve like a competitor in a wet t-shirt contest. Samantha was proudly heterosexual but looking at those breast and perky nipples made her very uncomfortable and created a small tingle between her legs. Samantha cautiously climbed into bed and hungrily gazed at her husband. To be on the safe side, she made sure to keep a respectful space between them. "Samuel, where did you get that outfit?"

"Do you like it?"

"First answer my question."

"I ordered it out of a catalog. It's a little small, particularly on top, because I got to fit you. My plan was to give it to you as a Valentine gift. You and Betty seem so enamored with my feminine persona that I thought I would surprise you. I love being a man and your husband, but there is something about this female pretending that resonates within me. I found this hidden in my drawer when I was looking for something to sleep in. I thought it would make me desirable to you. Please tell me you like it?"

"Like it, I love it. I just wish I were the one wearing it."

Seeing her husband's look of disappointment, she went on, "It does a marvelous job of accentuating your feminine charms. It was just not what I was expecting. In all truthfulness I find you are extremely sexy."

Surprisingly his response was, "Sexy as your husband or as a woman?"

Samantha crinkled her nose in a sign of confusion, "What possible difference would that make?"

Sammie rolled on his side to face his wife, which sent his bust quivering, "All the difference in the world. I'm so conflicted. Tell me, do you want me to be a man or a woman? I'm not sure how I view myself right now. I've been researching Mr. von Goethe on the net. He can have any woman he wants. I am trying as hard as I can. What if he doesn't find me attractive and desirable? I remember back to dressing for our party, I felt comfortable pretending to be your double. I saw the look in some guy's eyes, they were fooled. But this is for real. If I blow this, it would destroy our entire company. I've made a momentous decision. I'll have sex with him if that's what it takes."

"Samuel P. Johansson! You'll do no such thing. You're not a whore! If we have to start over again so be it. But we'll do it together and with our pride and your virginity in tack.

Sammie started trembling and broke out in a sweat. "Sam, are you alright?"

He was gasping for air, he barely got out, "I think I'm going crazy. I can't breathe and my heart is racing."

Samantha wrapped her arms around him and pulled him held him as tight as she could. "Relax honey; you're just having a panic attack." She tenderly cupped one breast with her hand lifting it she whispered into his ear. "Sammie, relax you are more woman than any man could handle."

The two lovers spent the night content with the closeness of their partner.

@ @ @ @

The next morning Sammie resisted opening his eyes. It had been a restless night filled with bad dreams. In the he wore a magnificent floor length ball gown and danced with a handsome prince charming when unexpectedly he was unmasked as a fraud and forced to flee amid peals of laughter from those around him.

Sammie reached out for his wife only to find the bed empty and the sheets cold. With a great deal of effort he pried open his eyes. The room was dimly lit. Sammie could tell there was a light on in the family room. He got out of bed and shivered. His gossamer nightgown provided minimum protection from the early morning chill. He warped his arms tightly under his breasts for warmth, slipped on a pair of Samantha's fuzzy slippers and headed out to find his wife.

He could hear her talking just before he entered the family room. Listening he could hear her clearly rehearsing her presentation. To his surprise, as he stepped through the door, Samantha stood clad in loafers, levies, a wool work shirt and a baseball cap to keep the hair out of her eves. She wielded a pointer like a rapier, and forcefully struck the chart to make a point. Looking up she saw her husband standing meekly in the door. The contrast in the dress was instantaneously obvious to both.

Samuel cringed and blushed as red as his negligee and began to apologize and turned to leave. In two large strides Samantha reached him. "Don't leave honey, I need you to listen and tell me what you think."

"I'm still wearing your nightie; I look ridiculous and need to change."

"Nonsense. You look fetching. I couldn't sleep and got up early to practice. I hope I didn't wake you. Make us some coffee and sit. If I can keep my concentration with you in the audience dressed like that, I'll have it made."

Sammie made each of them a strong cup of coffee and curled up on a recliner sitting on his feet like he had seen his wife do many times before.

Samantha ran through her briefing twice more before she announced it was time to get changed.

"What do you want me to do during the briefing?" inquired Sammie.

"Why I thought it would be obvious, you'll be support staff and secretary. Make yourself invisible and just take notes. I don't want Mr. von Goethe to even notice you, for now."

"Why can't I just stay home then?"

"There's a possibility he may ask something I can't answer. I want you there just in case."

Samantha dressed in a very profession pink tinted dress suit, with light but feminine makeup. In contrast, she had Sammie wear a very confining sports bra to deemphasize his chest. Samantha pulled his hair into a phony tail his only makeup was colored lip-gloss. She had him wear an off white loose fitting blouse, and a pair of slacks, with white saddle shoes. All intended to deflect attention.

Thirty minutes later, they plus Mary, Samuel's assistant helped set up the conference room. Unexpectedly Max walked in twenty minutes early. "I know I'm early but that is how I operate trying to catch people unprepared. I'm Wolfgang von Goethe, who might you ladies be?"

"Let me welcome you sir, my name is Mrs. Samantha Johansson, but please call me Sam, everyone around here does."

"A bit informal isn't it?"

"Yes sir it is; but that is the way we operate. I don't believe in a rigid command structure. We are all one big happy family. I can assure you it doesn't diminish our end product, plus it has the advantage of creating a more pleasant working environment.

"Let me introduce Mrs. Mary Williams. She is the head of our financial department."

"That's strange I was told that is the position held by your husband."

"Technically you're correct, but he is nothing more than a glorified bookkeeper. Mary is the one I turn to for advice and guidance. On paper, Samuel owns 50% of the company; but I'm the one that runs the place. As they say the buck stops here."

"I would still like to meet him."

"I'm sorry sir, he is recovering from surgery."

"Nothing serious I hope."

"No sir, it was just some minor cosmetic surgery. It is a procedure he has waited his whole life for and couldn't postpone it."

Max turned to Sammie, who stood in the back trying to blend into the wallpaper. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Samantha stepped in front of Sammie and spoke, "She's no one important just a temporary secretary, here to take notes. Should we get started?"

"No, I would like a tour of your offices first if you don't mind."

As the small group reached the door Samantha turned and ordered, "While we're out set up coffee and refreshments. I expect it all to be here up by the time we return."

They were gone a while and Sammie was concerned the coffee would be cold before they returned. So he reheated it to make sure it was hot.

They filed back into the room and Sammie took a seat in the back of the room and broke out a notebook. Before Samantha conducted her brief she ordered Sammie to serve everyone. He was extremely nervous and uncomfortable as a servant. So, sure enough, when he handed Mr. von Goethe his cup he spilt the burning hot liquid on his lap. Aghast at his actions, Sammie profusely apologized and went to get a cold towel. Upon his return, he found Samantha administering to him. Sammie handed the towel to his wife. Aware of Mr. von Goethe's reputation as a strict disciplinarian, she felt it necessary to make a show of punishing her husband/secretary. She launched into an attack. "Girl you are a clumsy fool. You're fired, get your things and get out of my sight." Sammie again apologized, Samantha merely pointed to the door.

Head down, Samuel headed for the door and wondered how he could go from husband and owner, to bookkeeper, to secretary, to being fired all in one morning.

Before he reached the door Max stood and said, "Stop young lady, you aren't going anywhere."

Turning to Samantha he said, "If you fire people for merely making a mistake I won't have to hear your briefing I'm leaving."

Samantha, thinking on her feet, defended herself, "Sir, the girl scalded you. I am not strict with my staff but people must be held accountable for their actions."

Max walked over to the coffee pot poured himself another cup the immediately proceeded to spill some on his pant leg. "Am I going to be held accountable Mrs. Johansson? Or can this lady resume her duties and we can get on with the briefing?"

Sammie resumed his seat at the rear, crossed his legs in a ladylike manner and proceeded to take notes. Sammie was impressed with professional manner in which his wife conducted her presentation, she covered their cooperate structure in great detail, their current staffing, and spent a long time on their marketing plan. She stumbled a bit when she discussed their financial reserves. Max immediately picked up on that and asked pointed questions, Samantha was unable to answer. She turned to Mary for help, who provided only a partial answer. Samuel took a chance and wrote the numbers on a piece of paper and waved them in the air to get Mary's attention. She had to squint but was able to read them.

Max looked at his Rolex watch and announced he had another appointment but would like to continue discussions tomorrow after the party. Times were set and he left the room apparently pleased with what he heard. Mary started to clean up the room. Samantha asked her to leave that for now, she wanted to have a private chat with Sammie.

Samuel thought 'Oh shit what have I done now?'

Once the door was closed, Samantha asked, "Well, what did you think?"

"One question. Whaddya mean by the crack about me being nothing but a gloried bookkeeper?"

Samantha ran to Samuel and threw her arms around him. "I'm sorry for that charade. Can you forgive me? I hated demeaning your significance as my partner. It was the only way I could think of to explain your absence."

"And firing me? I hate to admit it, but you about had me in tears."

Samantha threw her arms around Sammie and hugged him so hard it took his breath away. "From what I've read, Max is old school. I needed to demonstrate as a woman I had the balls to make hard decisions. Grab your purse we have to go. We're meeting Betty for lunch."

@ @ @ @

The couple found Betty at BK standing in line waiting to order. She turned to Samantha and said, "Your usual, I assume, and how about you Sammie? Cheeseburgers all around?"

"No thank you, I'll just have a small salad and a glass of water."

Both women spoke in unison, "What!"

Sammie stood up tall and sucked in his stomach, "Have you ladies seen that dress I have to squeeze into?"

Both smiled in empathy. Samantha threw away their trash and explained they had to get home as it would take all afternoon to convert Sammie from a mousy secretary to a super diva. Betty stood and said, "You'll do no such thing. My treat, I have made reservations for Sammie at my beauty parlor."

Samantha drove them all to the spa but couldn't find a parking spot. Betty took Sammie's hand and dragged him into the shop while Samantha waited in the car double parked. Samuel was in dread of what was to happen. Passing under the store sign, The Hair & Beauty Boutique, in his mind Samuel read as 'Abandon all hope ye who enter here.'

Betty did a quick handoff to Sophie, the owner. He was told to be a good girl and do what he was told. Left with no phone, money or a way home, Samuel resigned himself to his fate.

Five minutes later Betty came bounding back to the car. "Come on Sam. We've three hours to kill. Let's go window shopping at the mall."

"Betty, I don't feel right just leaving Samuel alone in there. What if his true identity was uncovered?"

"Don't worry about that. The owner is a close friend. I told her all about Samuel. She will watch out for him and ensure he gets the full experience."

"What are they going to do to him?"

"I really debated that. At first I was inclined to have the bridal makeover, but after a lot of thought, Sophie and I decided to go with the glamour showgirl package. Wait until you see the finished product, you won't recognize him. I took a picture of his dress with my cell phone, so they can color coordinate his makeup. He is going to make an adorable fairy princess."

"Please tell me they aren't doing anything permanent to my husband."

Betty got a mischievous grin on her face and replied, "That all depends on your definition of permanent. He is getting 30 inch hair extensions woven into his shoulder length hair that will last for several months; he is getting showgirl length acrylic fingernails, and permanent eyelash extensions."

"What!"

"Relax. Permanent is a misnomer. Individual lashes are glued onto his own lashes top and bottom, and in theory the extensions should last as long as his own lash, which inevitably will fall out when it gets to the end of its lash cycle, so yes it is permanent until his lash falls out but in reality they are best described as semi permanent."

As they drove off, Sammie was seated and a trio of young girls descended on him. One washed his hair followed by a scalp massage in preparation for hair extensions; one soaked his hands in warm soapy water to prepare them for the fake nails, the third gently rubbed moisturizer into his face. Samuel sat there in a glow. He had never been pampered like this and found he liked it.

Samuel watched each step in the mirrors arrange around his chair. He had a front row seat for his metamorphosis into a beautiful butterfly. He was actually disappointed when Sophie told him he was done and to stand outside as his wife would pick him up curbside.

Samuel entered this womanly sanctum feeling like a shy, timid insecure man in a dress. He proudly marched out the front door feeling as if he really was beautiful and confident woman.

Samantha pulled her car into a spot right at the front exit; they were a few minutes early. She scrutinized each woman leaving trying to pick out her husband. She was flabbergasted to see a woman emerge with face of a starlet and hair flowing down her back like a golden waterfall.

If it hadn't been for the frumpy dress, Samantha would never have recognized the goddess as Samuel. His face was framed by two long tendrils that lightly swayed below his chin. His trembling lips were covered in cotton candy pink lipstick to match the color on his acrylic nail, his eyes were outlined in heavy jet-black and accentuated with long extra thick glamour length false lashes, his lids were dramatically adorned in smoky grays and pinks.

Betty tried to restrain Sam, but she squirmed in her seat and couldn't wait any longer, she left the motor running and ran to her spouse. She gave him a hug that actually lifted him off his feet. Embarrassed at his reception, Sammie wiggled himself free and asked, "What do you think?"

Samantha composed herself and replied, "You look trannylicious! Your makeup is a bit dramatic for daytime, however it will be perfect for tonight, and I wouldn't change a thing. You are going to be the most stunning woman at the party. How do you feel?"

Samuel started to remind her he wasn't a woman, but he felt so pretty the compliment felt right.

"My eyelashes weigh a ton and my hair is so long I could be Rapunzel. But I feel so feminine. I can see how this pampering can become habit forming. This is one experience I'll always remember."

Sam snuggled into her husband’s arms and whispered in his ear, "Vanity they name is woman. I love the new you. I guarantee this is a day you will never forget."

Then she kissed his ear ever so briefly. A radiant Sammie stood transfixed. "Now let's get you home to get changed for the ball. It's considered bad form to keep your prince charming waiting."

Samantha raced around to the driver's door. Sammie learned two quick lessons, nails as long as his were a handicap. As he struggled with the door handle Betty added, "That is one reason we let the man open doors for us."

Sammie climbed into the back seat and immediately experienced painful lesson number two as he sat on his hair. Holding it up, he scooted into the seat. Samantha dropped Betty off at her car and drove home at Mach 3.

@ @ @ @

"Get undressed completely and put on the antiperspirant on the sink." Sammie stood in the center of the room au natural and felt ever so vulnerable. Samantha knelt at his feet holding a lump of flesh colored material. "Sammie we're going to start with your knickers. Initially I was going to dress you in a slinky piece of fluff; but I thought better of it. What I have here is called shape wear. It is firm elastic that will lift your butt and give it a more feminine shape. Plus, it will control your little secret. Don't look so forlorn they are nothing more than bicycle shorts."

As he helped Samantha wrestle them in place, he took refuge in her words and felt a sense of manliness about bike shorts. Until he got a good look and saw all the tiny red rosettes embroidered on them. "Aren't they a bit sissy looking?"

"And just who do you intend to show them to Samuel? They're functional, that's what counts. Now for your next foundation garment."

Samantha held up a stunning pink and silver brocade waist cincher again with a pattern of shiny red roses woven into the fabric. She said in a devilish giggle "Sammie, this is for you. You may find it a tad uncomfortable; it has extra heavy boning and is called in some circles a training corset. It was designed specifically for me. This will sculpt you into the traditional hourglass figure, so you can fit into my dress. I would guess the corset will be a smidgen small on you as it was selected to squeeze me into 'that' dress you selected. If we try real hard, it will accomplish the same thing for you. You may not like it; but since you aren't making the decisions right now, that is irrelevant."

Samuel started to complain; Samantha recognized his reluctance and said, "I'm sorry, that was harsh. This is your last chance to back out. I'll understand if that is what you want. If not, I expect nothing but your full cooperation from here on out."

"I realize I can't keep vacillating, it's all in time. Go for it. I'll do everything you ask."

Sam wrapped the cincher around Samuel and hooked up the front. At first it was just a little snug. As Sam began to tighten the laces, Samuel's apprehension began to grow. As she tightened the laces she kept up the mantra, "Resistance is futile."

What had been pleasantly tight quickly became a crushing force. With every tug Sammie squealed and let out a little gasp "Ooh", much to Samantha's concern. Samuel's waist molded like it was made of jell-o. As the gap in the flaps narrowed, he wanted to yell stop, there just wasn't sufficient air in his lungs to do more than whisper. His breathing became labored.

Samuel wheezed, "I can't breathe, I am going to faint. Can we take a break?"

"Oh, no worries, my little princess, I came prepared and brought smelling salts. Just concentrate on breathing with the upper portion of chest and take small shallow breathes."

Samantha became red faced from exertion as she pulled and tugged with all her might. She paused to catch her breath and produced a tape. She measured Samuel's waist and proudly announced, "Down to 23 inches, congratulations your waist is now smaller than mine." Samuel was allowed a few minutes to regulate his breathing while Sam went into the bathroom and got them both a glass of water.

"Feeling better are we? Now I will finish lacing you down. Another inch should do it."

In a whisper Samuel pleaded, "Please have mercy, I feel like my ribs are going to break. I've started to lose feeling in my legs."

Her only response was to put her knee in his back and pull the laces tighter.

Samuel struggled for every breath. Sam finally announced that she was finished and knotted the laces.

She had Sammie face the mirror. "My, that corset really gives you a curvy figure. That is just the look you so admired? How does it feel from that side of the corset?"

"It feels like a vice."

"Get used to it. No pain, no gain. We woman have to suffer to look attractive. Isn't that the look you so admired?"

"But I am not a woman!"

"Could have fooled me! Take a good look in the mirror and tell me what you see. I see only a feminine form; no sign of a man thing between your legs, glorious hair flowing down your back, and the face of an angel. Max could walk in right now and see nothing but woman."

She pulled up a chair and had Samuel sit for his nylons. "Oh Sammie, you are going to love these fishnet stockings, how many times have you asked me to wear something like these? They are the prettiest stockings I've seen in ages. They will help you look your best on this, your special day. They are ultra feminine; just make sure you keep the seam straight. They will add a touch of sexiness to your outfit. They are the perfect accessory for the party."

Samuel thought, 'What she really means is my coming out party. God this is so emasculating. Before it was just a costume party; no big deal. This is more like a real girl primping for a real date.'

"We're almost there; it's time for your brassiere. Remember when you picked it out and how excited you were at the way it would display my breasts?"

Samantha stood behind her husband and wrestled with the padded bra trying to get it fastened. She now regretted getting a 38 instead of a 40. She eventually got all four hooks secured and prayed they would hold. Looking over Sammie's shoulder to the mirror she could see the bra really pressed his tits together. It created an amazingly deep cleavage line. It lifted the soft breast tissue up into the top of the cups, and left the jiggling skin perched where it threatened to spill out of the bra.

Samuel did a shoulder shimmy, which sent tideway's of flesh rippling across his chest. Then to Samantha relief, he joked, "Look my cups runneth over." Then thought, 'This is what I always wanted Samantha to look like? I had always believed a lady would be delighted to be endowed with a bust like this. So why do I feel like a total tramp with hooters this large?"

"Okee dokee, let's get your dress on."

Samantha laid the dress on the floor and opened it so Sammie merely had to step into the center. Sam pulled the garment up and Sammie slid his arms into the sleeves. He watched his refection in pure terror. There was no vestige of a man anywhere. He acknowledged intellectually he should be ashamed; but rather than shame or embarrassment he was enchanted with what he saw. He really did feel like a princess.

Samantha did up the twelve small buttons in the back securing the gown onto her husband, knowing he wasn't getting out of that without help. She fluffed his hair out, attached the long earrings and moved to the front to adjust the top for maximum exposure.

In the process, she reached into his bra and adjusted the tender, or so sensitive, flesh in their cups. The fleeting caress of her fingers, were enough to set his thighs quivering, his legs turned to jello. Having the gown sit just where she wanted it, as a final token of affection Samantha tantalizingly swept her finger tips across his exposed breast.

With legs locked, and jaws clenched he struggled to contain himself. Just when he thought he had won the battle, Samantha bent a placed a kiss in the cleft of his bosom. His breasts rose and fell with each juddering breath. Eventually a nasal grunt betrayed him; he was wracked in the throes of a small but still palatable orgasm. There was no way Samantha could have missed what happened so he merely said, "God you must think me a wanton hussy!"

With a satisfied smile on her face, she replied, "Why whatever do you mean?"

She retrieved his stilettos and knelt at his feet. "Give me your foot, I have put this off as long as I could, after all high heels are a rite of passage into womanhood, just like her first orgasm."

Samantha secured the shoes, stood, and picked up a clutch purse of the dresser. She spayed a heavy cloud of perfume around her husband, allowed it to permeate her clothing then said, "I do believe you are ready. Wait we are forgetting one important item. Your words if I remember, you are an unattached, available female for tonight remember. No rings allowed."

Samantha picked up her husband's left hand and tried to slide his wedding ring off. A brief but ineffectual tug of war ensued. She lifted his hand to her face and slid his ring finger into her mouth, where she copiously lubricated his finger with her saliva. The ring now slid off. She put it away safely in her jewelry box.

"Now skiddaddle, while I get dressed. You shouldn't keep your man waiting. Oh wait, don't forget your purse. I have it packed with all the essentials a young lady requires. There's lipstick, a comb, small bottle of perfume, a sanitary pad for those surprise discharges, and of course protection in case Max well you know..."

"Protection! Samantha you're driving me mad! Besides I always thought it was the man's responsibility to provide those items."

Samantha fell down laughing, "Get your mind out of the gutter. I put a stun gun in there in case Max threatens your virtue."

In contrast to her husband's flowing locks she elected to pull her hair back in a severe bun. The only thing that kept her from looking like the stereotypical librarian was the lack of horn rim glasses. Looking like a complete frump just was not something that she could accept, so she had added a bit of bling by wearing her cubic zirconium faux diamonds. Everything except her wedding and engagement rings. Sammie, under the guise of being a bachelorette had to leave his at home, Sam thought it only apropos she did likewise.

@ @ @ @

Librarian Samantha stood with her husband in their entry way to provide moral support. A knock came as a surprise, Sammie about pissed his panties. Samantha answered the door and hoped her husband would hide in the close while she was away. Opening the door Sam found Max, in an expensive Armani suit, holding a bouquet of yellow and red roses.

With a confused look on his face, Max said, "Mrs. Johansson, am I at the correct address? This is where I was told to go to pick up my date."

"Yes, sir. At Sammie's request, I came over to help her get dressed for tonight's activities."

Max looked around Samantha and immediately recognized the young lady cowering in the hall. "Does the president always provide personal services for lowly secretaries, especially after threatening to fire them?"

"Mr. von Goethe, as I insinuated before we are not a normal company. I sadly admit I lost my temper this morning but there are no hard feelings. Sammie and I are closer than sisters. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her."

Max held out the flowers and reached out toward Sammie. "Miss, I brought these for you. I now regret bringing them. Your beauty puts them to shame."

Sammie took the flowers and blushed at the compliment. "Thank you Mr. von Goethe, your gallantry is appreciated. Mrs. Johansson, could you please entertain my guest; while I put these in water?"

Sammie disappeared into the kitchen and Max commented, "She certainly has transformed from the woman I encountered this morning."

"Yes, she does clean up nice. I think you will like her. She is really a nice girl, if a little shy; but she has been with the company from the very beginning. Feel free to ask her about us".

"Has she been briefed on what to say and not to say?"

"Absolutely not, she is her own person and will be as truthful and informative as she can. You have my word on that."

Sammie returned at that moment. To Max's delight, she had cut one of the yellow flowers and pinned it in her hair. "Now if you will excuse us we have reservations."

"Where, may I ask?"

"Le restaurant des Quatre Saisons, I'm told it is the finest French restaurant in the area."

"It is sir, the cuisine is excellent."

Then with a wink she said to Sammie, "Be a good girl Sammie and have fun. I'll be around, come say hello."

Max gave Sammie his arm and walked her to the waiting limo. The wind blew Sammie's hair out behind her like the tail of a comet. Max waited until she was seated inside and waved good bye to Samantha.

Samantha got on the phone and called Betty who was waiting around the corner. "Come-on girl, step on it, I don't want to lose them."

There weren't a lot of stretch limos on the streets so it wasn't difficult tailing them. They pulled up at the restaurant and from across the street the girls watched Max give Sammie his hand and help her into the bistro. Samantha gave them 15 minutes and then followed into the club. Samantha took a seat at the bar and scanned the dining room. She had a glass of wine, fended off two advances and then located her husband in a booth in a secluded corner. She asked directions to the ladies room and casually strolled to it, keeping her focus on their table. Much to Samantha's surprise she observed Sammie snuggle up to Max and grab his bicep with both hands and lay her head on his shoulder. Just before entering the lavatory she heard Sammie giggle like a schoolgirl at something her date said. Samantha stalled as long as she could before leaving. A strategically placed plant provided her cover as she moved closer to the table. Sammie looked up and made eye contact. Then reached up and fingered her earring which was their prearranged all clear signal. Samantha turned to leave and bumped into Betty. "Sorry I had to see for myself. It appears Sammie is willing to do anything to get ahead."

They headed back to Betty's car. She drove Sam to the club for the party.

@ @ @ @

Nancy had been in charge of making sure that the party was setup. As one of the owners, Samantha was the de facto hostess and only needed to be present to welcome the guests as they arrived. She had been at the party for hours and she was getting concerned something might have happened when Sammie finally appeared with Max. She had to deflect a few inquiries about Samuel's whereabouts by telling them that he was meeting with a special client. There were only a few people who were privy to the knowledge that Samuel, in the guise of Sammie, would be here at the party with that special client.

Max and Sammie slipped in almost unnoticed as the party was in full swing. Even Sam missed them at first and she had been watching for them. The band was playing some lively tunes and the dance floor was over overcrowded. There were almost five hundred people congregated around the various food tables, the open bars in the corners, or out on the dance floor, the entire company had shown up for this party, everyone brought a plus one, no one wanted to be alone on Valentine's Day. The resulting din was just short of stupefying.

Samantha's first glimpse of her husband was just a blur; he was out on the dance floor, being whirled around by his date. She watched for several minutes and observed that Sammie appeared to be having a good time. Samantha and Samuel enjoyed dancing and it appeared that Max was an aficionado as well.

As she watched her husband in the arms of another man, laughing and having fun, Samantha's jealousy reached the boiling point. In honor of the romantic holiday the band played a Danube Waltz. Max led his date around the floor like an expert and Sammie followed with surprising feminine grace. The thought occurred to her when, 'She ever got her husband back, she would have to take the lead once in a while. It looked like Samuel followed as well as he led.'

Samantha was finally able to make eye contact with her husband. Holding up her purse Samantha gestured to the ladies bathroom. The two arrived and Sammie asked what Samantha wanted. She merely shushed him and said, "Wait until were alone inside." Away from the racket, and alone, Samantha led Sammie to the sinks and vanity mirrors. Opening her purse she took out a lipstick and chastised Sammie for having to be reminded to refreshing his own." Finishing her own lips Samantha asked, "Well is he or isn't he?"

"Why whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me Samuel, I'm in no mood. I saw the way you threw yourself at Max. Is he a sexist pig or not?"

"I can't say with certainty. As you say I threw myself at him and gave him every opportunity to respond. So far he has been nothing but a perfect gentleman. He has kept his hands to himself and when we talk he looks me in the eye. I can't tell if it is because he is a gentleman or he just doesn't find me alluring."

"Why Samuel, I do believe you are getting a man crush on him."

Before Sammie could respond the door opened and a gaggle of giggling girls flew in and greeted Samantha.

Sammie took the opportunity to politely excuse himself. After a brief search, he found his date involved in a lively conversation at one of the tables. Sammie reached for his hand, "Max, let's dance. You aren't tired already?"

Finally, the band took a break and Max and Sammie made their way to an empty table. Sam decided that this was a good time to formally greet the guest of honor. She held back until Max had seated Sammie and she stepped forward to reintroduce herself. To ensure there was a contrast between her and her husband, she wore a conservative grey business suit. She had darkened her makeup somewhat to slightly change her look.

"Mr. von Goethe?" She stopped just outside what she judged to be his personal space, yet close enough to be heard over the drone of noise in the room.

Max turned toward the severely dressed young woman who had appeared next to him. He reflected that she was actually a rather attractive woman; at least she would be if her hair was not pulled back so tightly and she elected to wear something that did not make her look so manly. "Mrs. Johansson, it's nice to see you again." The dossier that Thomas had provided him clearly implied she was happily married; he wondered why she was not wearing a wedding ring and why she was trying to look so masculine? Was it a costume for the party?

"Please call me Sam."

"Sam, it's a lovely party thank you for inviting me." He smiled warmly and bowed to his hostess.

Samantha returned his smile, not seeing any of the chauvinistic behavior she had been anticipating. 'Could they have been misinformed?'

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so. Is your husband around? I would like to meet him."

Looking her husband in the eye, "Sorry, my husband isn't feeling himself tonight and can't make it. I asked Sammie here to be your escort for the evening. I hope that she is everything that you had hoped she would be. She has firm instructions to ensure you have a good time." She looked down at Sammie who was sitting demurely at the table, quietly watching the conversation. Sam was rewarded with a bright flush that washed over her husband's face. Sam smiled slightly at her husband's discomfort.

"Yes, Sam. Sammie has been excellent companion. I was surprised to find that she is a CPA and how knowledgeable she is about your company. I might just try to hire her away from you." He smiled slightly to indicate that he was teasing, but only a little.

"She's also an excellent dancer. I'm looking forward to getting her back to the dance floor; there are not that many women who can keep up with me."

The look that was exchanged between Sam and Max seemed to be charged with meaning. The way he was looking at Sammie it was obvious he didn't want to be bothered again this evening with business. It's said he's a man who knows what he wants and is accustomed to getting it. It was also reported he didn't take no for an answer. He had only one goal in mind tonight and she was sitting at the table waiting for him.

"Very well then. Sammie has been briefing me on your financial status and I look forward to our meeting tomorrow. So you can explain in more detail your plans for recovery." Sam stuck out her hand to Max and gave him a firm handshake then she bowed slightly to Sammie, who blushed at his wife's masculine attitude. Sam retreated back to the table she had selected for its seclusion, where she could watch the action on the dance floor without being too intrusive. The staff that was in on the masquerade were also using the table as their 'base'. At the moment they were all out on the dance floor, enjoying themselves. Sam, all alone, was beginning to feel a bit like a fifth wheel.

The band played a couple more numbers before Max and Sammie returned to the floor. Sam had noticed that Sammie appeared to be nervous as she has observed him knock back a couple of mixed drinks rather rapidly. She hoped that Sammie did not lose control and step out of character.

For his part, Sammie thought he was handling everything without a problem. Sam had expected her husband to be appalled at the treatment their guest was reputed to dish out to his escorts. Yet Sammie was perfectly at ease, his date apparently a perfect gentleman.

From her observation point, Samantha was confused. Either Max had toned down the objectionable behavior or Sammie must be wasted. Sammie moved smoothly as Max led him out to the middle of the dance floor.

Over the next minutes, Sam was completely blown away as she watched Max lead Sammie through several different songs, each involving a different step. Finally, the band seemed to join in on the fun as they first played a waltz number and then the foxtrot. Sam had hired the band for their range of numbers, but she had not actually auditioned them. Now, she was forced to watch Sammie and Max put on a dance clinic.

As the couple got more into the rhythm of the dances, the couples around them began to notice their obvious expertise and stood back to make room. Eventually, no one was dancing they simply formed a very large circle around them and observed. Watching her husband dance, Sam's face was awash with surprise and a touch of jealousy. When the band began to warm up to play the tango, enough was enough and she pushed her way to the edge of the dance floor. She stepped forward and spoke quietly into Max's ear. He nodded politely to Sam and then had a quiet word with Sammie.

Sammie was a bit put out at being asked to stand aside so that Max could dance with Samantha. He was annoyed with his wife and watched disconsolately as he thought, 'Just as I was really getting into things and starting to have fun out there, Sam had to step into things and steal my date!'

The alcohol he had sucked down had worked its way into his system with a vengeance. He stood on the sidelines and watched his wife dance the tango with Max like it had been choreographed. Samuel grudgingly admitted, 'The only thing missing was the rose clenched between Sam's teeth.'

When the dance finally ended, the sexual tension was so palatable; you could cut it with a knife. Samuel had always been a jealous person and a little insecure, watching his beautiful wife in the arms of his handsome date morphed the feelings of jealousy into envy. In his alcoholic haze he just was not sure which bothered him more, his wife being with another man or his date being with his wife. As everyone broke out into wild applause at the performance, Sammie shouldered his way through the crowd to one of the bartender stations in the corner of the room.

The bartender asked Sammie what he wanted, his response was, "Surprise me." He slugged back something that made his eyes water. He was about to order another when Nancy slid in next to him, put her hand on his. "Sammie, I think a glass of wine would be more appropriate. Don't you? After all, that is a more ladylike drink than hard whiskey." After the strenuous exertions of the tango, Max decided to take a break. He appeared at his date's side just as the bartender served Sammie his wine.

"My dear. I'm sorry that I neglected you, but our hostess pointed out that she had not had the opportunity to dance with me and informed me she was particularly adept at dancing the tango. I hope that you're not too upset?" As Max turned on the charm, Sammie felt himself relaxing and he allowed Max to lead him back to their table. He was glad that his voice training had been so good that he had not made a mistake of allowing his voice to drop back to Samuel's deeper register.

Back at the table, Sammie felt himself relaxing even more as Max told several amusing anecdotes that managed to coax a smile out of him. Nancy hovered close by. At one point, she, Mary and two other office girls and made it a point to stop at the table for a moment, under the pretext of saying hello but in reality on Samantha's orders were checking on Sammie's sobriety.

Max couldn't help but notice the other woman's genuine concern for his date's wellbeing. As he looked around, he could see the same attitude in several places in the room. If someone looked they might have taken too great an advantage of the open bar, they were being seated by a friend or escort. He even saw one case of someone taking car keys away. He was impressed by how tightknit the employees of the company were; a fact that went into a compartment in his mental catalog.

Feeling the call of nature, he excused himself, feeling sure that Sammie would be okay waiting for him, considering how she was seated among her friends.

Across the room, a pair of guys saw the lone doe, sitting alone. They watched her date whisper something in her ear and then vanish into the crowd. The predators scented fresh blood and made a bee line across the room to Sammie's table, with a nefarious plan to cull her from the herd. Each of the obviously drunk men slithered into chairs on either side of Sammie. Samuel gave each a cursory glance; he failed recognized either, so he assumed that they were invited dates. Upon closer examination; he concluded they must be blind dates. The women who worked for him were too classy to be involved on a regular base with these types.

"Hey cutie. Whatcha doin' here all alone?" The one on his right swooped in on him, and brushed a hand along Samuel's arm, as he noticed the absence of a wedding ring.

He shrugged the cad's hand away and said, "My date just stepped into the rest room, he'll be right back." Samuel really did not want to break his cover, but he already felt uncomfortable with these two clods obviously thinking he was available or worse yet interested. He scanned the crowd, where was Sam? He needed her.

The first guy's wingman took over from where his friend left off; he ran his fingers along the back of Samuel's hand and said, "Interested in a good time? I've got some blow."

Samuel jerked his hand away and decided that it might be wiser to put some distance between himself and his erstwhile suitors. He stood and backed away from the table, but he unwisely allowed himself to be between the two drunks and rest of the dance floor. His machismo seemed to have deserted him as the two men began moving toward him. He tried to go around them, which only resulted in being edged closer to the door that led out to the garden behind the hall.

Just as Sammie decided it was time to pay the damsel in distress card and scream for help, Max appeared behind the two men.

"Excuse me gentlemen. I believe that is my date," Max said calmly.

Almost at the same time, they turned to Max and the first one said, "Beat it old man. You left her alone, that means she's fair game. We decided it's our turn now."

"That's no way to treat a lady. Would you two care to step outside and we'll settle this like gentlemen and I use the term loosely?"

Both drunks sneered at Max, obviously missing the fact; he was completely calm and physically relaxed. Something that should've sent alarm signals to their brains if they weren't so wasted.

"Yeah," the leader of the duo said. "Let's go out and take care of this. Then we'll come back in and show the little lady a good time." His cockiness said that he did not consider Max a threat and he expected to leave the smaller man in a crumpled heap in the garden. Max was, in fact, of just average size when compared to the two knuckle-dragging no-necks that stood in front of him. These guys were obviously bullies and accustomed to intimidating people and taking whatever they wanted.

By this time, the confrontation was starting to draw attention and several people turned to see what was going on. Recognizing the potential for fisticuffs Max wanted to ensure Sammie's safety. He calmly turned his back to the two ruffians and took her by the elbow. Samuel was craning his neck trying to see where Samantha was. He caught sight of her on the other side of the room and had to wave three or four times to get her attention. Once she saw him, she hurried across the room trying to intercept him.

Max walked Sammie rather forcefully to the ladies' room; Sammie had trouble keeping up with Max as he was forced to skip as fast as he could in his stilettos. Max kicked opened the ladies room door and pushed Sammie inside with the instruction, "Stay here! Don't come out until I come back for you! There are two, excuse my language, assholes that need to have an attitude adjustment." The way Max said attitude exemplified what he thought of the attitudes and behavior of the two thugs waiting for him at the door.

As he turned away, Sammie pleaded "Please, Max! Don't do this. They're half your age. It isn't worth it. I don't want you to get hurt!"

Max smiled reassuringly and turned away from Sammie. Samantha showed up and joined her husband in the ladies room. After being briefed on the situation, Samantha was torn between her duties as hostess and her responsibilities to protect her husband.

Samuel was nearly hysterical. Samantha held his hands and tried to calm him down. "Aside from those two contemptuous hooligans how has your evening been going?"

"I am so ashamed, how will you ever forgive me?"

"Has Sammie been a bad girl? Tell me all about it. If Max has taken liberties with you, I'll rip his lips off."

In a whining tone Sammie went on, "No, it's not Max. He has shown me nothing but kindness and respect. It's all the other guys out there. I have been subjected to an entire night of lascivious stares. Not one man looked me in the eye; all they do is focus on my bust. I had no idea how degrading and dehumanizing that is. Before, when I admired a pretty well developed woman, I thought in some way I was complimenting her. Now I realize it's debasing to objectify a person based on her bra size.

By the way this bra you made me wear is diabolical. I know it was never your plan; but I've become so much more sensitive and perceptive, thank you for that!"

With a triumphant smile, Samantha said, "That's awesome. Now let's just get through this night. Fix your face while I stand guard at the door. We can talk more about your conversion tonight. Love you."

Samantha stood her post at the lavatory door.

By this time, Max had reached the two men who intended to put him into the hospital. As the crowd watched, the three men disappeared out the door and into the night. The view was blocked by the crowd of people as the all jockeyed for position to watch. No sooner had the crowd settled than they began parting like the Red Sea to make room for someone coming back in the room.

Samantha held her breath waiting to see who the lone survivor was.

The group of people nearest the door did not look at Max as he passed back into the hall; rather they craned their necks to see the two men lying on the grass outside. Then they looked at the back of the man who had managed to KO two larger men in the space of thirty seconds.

Max walked calmly and steadily up to where Samantha stood. "I'm sorry that I had to spoil your party Samantha. Unfortunately, a pair of your guests attempted to assault my date. I had to point out that they were being impolite and was forced to teach them some manners. May I step in to check on Sammie?"

Max triumphantly entered the powder room to find Sammie cowering in the far corner. Everything started to catch up with Sammie. The stress of everything Samuel had done to be here tonight as Sammie, the emotional upheaval of almost being attacked, and the booze that he had consumed all served to make him more than a little wobbly. Upon seeing her Sir Galahad, apparently safe and sound, she flew across the room and threw herself into his arms. She gave him a boa constrictor hug.

Which is how Samantha found the two as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"Are you alright? How…How'd you do that?" Sammie choked out.

Max just waved his hand. "I was a Mixed Martial Arts champion when I was younger. Much younger. But I am still spry enough to take out those two punks." He looked at Sammie with concern. "Young lady, are you all right?"

"Y…Yes. I think so," Sammie answered. "I'm just a little light-headed at the moment." Both Max and Samantha reached out to steady Sammie as he seemed to waver back and forth.

"I'm sorry that I left you alone," Max began. "I've only known you for a little while, but I think that you are a special person. If you will have me, just say yes and I will never leave you alone again."

In his unsteady state, Sammie only heard the words, not the meaning and emotion behind them. All he thought was that Max was promising to stay by his side for the rest of the evening, not the rest of his life.

"Yes, yes, Max. Thank you."

For her part, Samantha had kept a clear head all evening and she understood what Max was asking. Her eyes widened and her heart seemed to seize up as she heard Max proposing to her intoxicated husband, and the drunken knuckle head apparently accepting the proposal.

A simple lesson in attitude and manners and an attempt to save their company had ballooned dangerously out of control. All Samantha could see now was abject humiliation for her husband, an irate potential client who would ruin their reputation, and the end of the company which was the livelihood for everyone here at the party.

Samantha fought back the desire to cry and realized that the only thing she could do was to reveal the truth to Max and explain why they deceived him. She stepped forward to touch Max's elbow.

"Mr. von Goethe? Sammie and I really need to speak with you." Max looked at Samantha for a moment that seemed to drag on to eternity and nodded. Sammie had watched the exchange between his wife and Max with a fuzzy head until the reality of the situation seemed to wash over him, leaving him cold sober.

"Mr. von Goethe, my husband and I owe you an explanation and a very great apology," Samantha said.

Max nodded politely and just looked at Samantha expectantly.

"What would your husband have to apologize for?"

Sam took a deep breath and just plunged into her story. "I'll get to that in a minute. Our company is struggling and we are in danger of having to close our doors. When we learned that you were considering us to represent you and your interests, we were determined that we would do whatever it took to convince you ours is the best company out there." She paused for a moment to marshal her thoughts.

"Samuel contacted your administrative aide and spoke with him to get the inside story on how best to influence you. Your man made it very clear you enjoy the company of well-endowed blonde women. To that end, we attempted to find a buxom young lady to hang on your arm and make you happy. Regrettably we were unable to locate anyone who fit the bill. Samuel came to me with an idea. His intention was to have me undergo breast augmentation surgery and impress you with my appearance and knowledge of the company."

"How does that explain Sammie?" Max said, putting his hand on Sammie's.

Samantha cleared her throat and said "I don't want to embarrass you but your date's real first name is Samuel. He may look like a woman, but he is my husband!"

Before the opened mouth Max could respond, Samantha went on, "Well, sir. That is where the rest of explanation and apology comes in. You see, my husband is a bit of a chauvinist. He has always admired women who are better endowed than I."

She gestured to her own torso. "As you can see, I'm not very impressive in a bikini. Samuel's idea was logical, but I was hurt that he would ask me to become an object and to use me to distract you. In a fit of anger, I used a bit of trickery to convince Samuel to have the surgery, thus becoming the Sammie you see before you. My intent was to teach him a lesson about what it was to be looked upon as a sex symbol and to provide you with an escort that you would prefer and yet still be informed about our company. I'm afraid that the situation got out of hand."

At that point, Samantha's story ran down. She'd confessed to tricking her husband into getting a large set of hooters and to then using her cross-dressed husband to deceive their guest into thinking that he was with an attractive, available woman. She could see no point in trying to justify their actions any further.

"We cannot apologize enough for what we've done to you or the embarrassment we have caused. I'm sorry."

Max von Goethe stood still as a statue looking first at Samantha and then at Sammie, the woman he had thought was a captivating breath of fresh air. The tableau seemed to go on for hours to Sam and Sammie. In actuality, it probably lasted all of ninety seconds.

"You shouldn't have bothered. I make it a rule never to do business with blonde airheaded bimbos like you two. Goodnight."

Then Max bowed respectively to both of them and turned to stride with rigid correctness back through the dance hall and out to where his limo was parked. He was gone within minutes.

Sam stood looking at the door through which Max and vanished, saddened that their plot had gone so wrong. Not that Samuel's original plan had been much better, but her plan had exposed Max to a level of embarrassment that her husband's had lacked. The only upside was that she had ended up with a very pretty husband, although he was not delighted to lean how he had been used. She turned to Sammie with tears starting to stream down her face and they fell into each other's arms, weeping. Not only had the company they had enjoyed building come to an end, but all of their family of employees were now facing unemployment.

Sammie, even in his somewhat intoxicated condition, was doing better emotionally than his wife. He had had a few too many drinks and would pay for it later, but he held Sam tightly as he consoled her. The Samuel Johansson who had helped to build the company from nothing showed his true strength to his wife.

"Sam. Sam!" He didn't want to slap his own wife to break her out of the crying jag she had gotten herself into and he was glad that she finally gave a gasp and then inhaled deeply. "Just relax. Let's let everyone enjoy themselves here. Everything has already been paid for; we'll worry about damage control tomorrow. We'll get through this. After all we're still a team."

Samantha looked her husband in the eyes her heart leaping with joy, "We're still a team?"

"Of course, you didn't think a set of boobs will come between us."

The tension broken Samantha laughed and hugged her husband as close as his endowments would allow and said; "Actually they do seem to create a significant chasm, at least physically."

Samantha had obviously invested a great deal of her emotion into the party and the let-down had hurt her more than she expected. She nodded sadly to Samuel and they walked out of the party through the garden, not wanting their team to see them leave. Sam knew that her staff would handle coordinating the shutting down of the party when the time came; she didn't need to be there.

Samuel led her back to where the limousines were parked. Samantha had arranged for a car to take Sammie and herself away from the party, but she had thought that it would have been in triumph, not in abject defeat. She turned and looked back at the entrance to the hall, thinking about all of the people they had let down and Samuel coaxed her into the open door thanked the driver and climbed in himself.

To a casual observer, it seemed as if two attractive women had left the party and gotten into a limo. It was almost as if Cinderella was getting into her carriage at the end of the ball. Inside, it definitely was not Cinderella who was lying back reliving her time at the ball. Instead, it was Samuel holding his wife, telling her that everything was going to be fine and that he loved her with all of his heart. He said, "Honey, we may have lost everything; but as long as we have each other. I believe we're still ahead on points." He wished her a Happy Valentine's Day before kissing her hard enough to make her toes curl. Samantha soon found herself relaxing into Samuel's embrace and she returned his kiss with equal ardor.

By the time they reached their home, Samuel had managed to get her to forget about the night's disappointment and she was giggling and cooing at his kissing and tickling. If the driver was surprised or embarrassed at two women sitting in the back of his fooling around, he hid it well. He was the consummate professional as he pulled up to the front door and held the door for them as they left the vehicle, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. The two ladies vanished into the house and he left to enjoy the rest of his evening.

@ @ @ @

The lovebirds slept in the next morning and they certainly needed the rest. For the first time in their married life, Samantha pleasured her husband first. Playing with his fun bags seemed to feed Sammie's recuperative powers. He brought his wife to the peak of ecstasy so many times that she couldn't see straight. This night Samantha gave as good as she got. They both slept contented and satisfied. Their love rejuvenated by the night of passion.

It was well after noon before they were finally showered and dressed for the day. Until Sammie could go for surgery, he had no choice but to present himself as a woman. If he was going to be a woman, Samantha was determined he was going to be the best, most beautiful woman he could be. She spent a long time combing his long hair in a fancy French braid. Then she did his makeup for him. When she was finished Samantha gushed over his beauty. In light of last night's events, it was obvious husband and wife would be sharing more than makeup and both would be shopping in the women's clothing department for quite some time.

Sammie had not fully come to terms with his enhanced bust and he was conflicted over the idea he was going look like this for a long time. However in one night of lovemaking, Sammie discovered he had acquired two new delightful erogenous zones — At first he was afraid to reveal that to his wife concerned it would turn her off. But happily she seemed to get as much enjoyment out of them as he did. Then the realization that they were facing bankruptcy and their friends were going to be out of their jobs brought him out of his post coitus afterglow of happiness.

They moved to the family room to have a leisurely brunch of tea and biscuits. Samantha smiled at her husband's blatant attempt at seduction. He had intentionally left his satin dressing gown open to reveal a great deal more décolletage than appropriate for the breakfast table.

Nevertheless they ate their humble repast side by side occasionally stroking each other. Samantha just couldn't seem to keep her hands off her sexy playmate. It was amazing how showing strength and compassion in the face of adversity made Sammie so sexy to Sam. She had also discovered how much fun it was to tease her husband's new breasts and watch him writhe in enjoyment. After watching how much he had enjoyed her attention, Sam wasn't sure if she would be able to get him back to a surgeon and she wasn't sure if she wanted him to.

Sammie was returning with a fresh pot of tea when the doorbell rang. Pulling his robe closed, he opened the door, to discover their porch had been transformed into a potpourri of fragrant red, white, and yellow roses. At the edge of the garden of flowers stood Max von Goethe.

For some reason, Sammie was unable to process the presence of Max and the roses; all he could do was stand there in shock. When Sammie did not come back with the tea, Sam came to investigate. She came up behind her husband catching a glimpse of color in the background, "Honey? What's going on?"

When she looked around Sammie and saw all of the beautiful roses, her face split into a delighted smile; every woman likes flowers. Her smile dimmed slightly when she saw Max. Not wanting to spoil a perfect day with a confrontation with this odious individual, she knew there was no way to mollify Max, so why bother. She asked politely, "Mr. von Goethe? What are you doing here?"

Max held his hands up in surrender to show that he meant no harm.

Carrying an armload of flowers, he said, "These are my peace offering. I came to offer my apologies to you both for my reaction last night. I allowed my emotions to control me instead of seeing your actions from your point of view. I saw two people who had tried to humiliate me into signing a contract by setting me up with a female impersonator and did not see two people who were doing what they needed to do to save their business by giving me what they thought I wanted. It took me five whole minutes to kick myself in the ass and see that you had done almost exactly what you were expected to do."

Sammie blinked and said, "You expected us to do that to you?"

Max smiled. "Well, something like what you did. You see, you were set up. All those tabloid stories about me are planted. True I am a lonely widower; but I am no rich playboy, out screwing every bimbo he can. The only women I find attractive have brains as well as beauty. That is why I am so attracted to Sammie. Thomas fed you the information about me that we wanted you to have. All of the prospective marketing organizations that I have interviewed were told the same story.

"Every one of your competitors provided me with a big bosomed floozy who made it plain they were prepared to do anything I wanted."

"You mean that you expected us to set you up with someone?" Sammie asked, confused.

"Yes, that is what I anticipated," Max answered as he stepped forward. "However in your case, you surprised me. Unlike your competitors, Sammie was certainly flirtatious but I never doubted her virtue or her intentions. You didn't insult me by assuming I would be thinking with my little head. You provided me with the company of a beautiful, intelligent person for the evening. It's obvious to me that dinner and dancing was all that was on the menu.

"The character and integrity of the marketing firm that we will be doing business with is important to me. I won't do business with someone who would pimp out a young lady just to get my business. After all, you can't know how they will treat a business partner if they would do that to an individual. At the same time, I want to work with people who will go all out to do what they must for their client. Sammie certainly went the extra mile to win me over."

Sammie joked, "No sir they aren't a mile, it's an optical illusion just seems that big."

Max laughed at the joke. Sammie and Samantha still stood at the door, with Samantha looking over her husband's shoulder. Max laid a bouquet of roses at Sammie's feet then knelt on one knee. He took a box out of his jacket pocket and held the unopened box out to Sammie and said, "Consider this a proposal."

Sammie looked down in astonishment at the box and then up at Max's face, plainly confused. Then the realization of what was happening hit him. Sammie became faint, his heart raced and he became short of breath. He thought he was having another anxiety attack. 'The concept that a wealthy and powerful man could actually ask him to become his wife was preposterous. Or was it, in retrospect Max had asked the same question last night.'

Samantha wrapped her arms around her noodle limp husband and spoke up, "Mr. von Goethe, what do you mean? We are already married and Sammie is my husband and unless he has changed his sexual orientation overnight I believe he wants to retain the position. I thought we made that very clear to you."

Max smiled broadly. "Excuse my small play on words, I know all of that. I can be insufferable at times and I'm a bit of a prankster that was just a bit of levity to show I harbor no resentment for last night." He took a second box from his jacket and offered it up to Sam. "I'm not here to make a proposal of marriage to either of you. Rather what I am proposing is a wedding between Johansson Marketing and von Goethe Enterprises. Rather than hire your services, I would like your company to become a subsidiary of mine. With one condition, that is nonnegotiable. Both you ladies must agree to remain in charge — you are a team that I couldn't possibly break up."

Sammie finally found his voice, "I don't know Max…that, is asking for a huge commitment, especially from me."

"Forgive me Sammie; I understand you were just playacting last evening. However from my vantage point you didn't seem to be struggling in your part. I know there were times you were enjoying yourself. If I am wrong, tell me so and we will forget the whole thing."

Sammie choked on his own words, "Not so fast Max, no one said we or I wouldn't do it. I merely expressed the concept that there would be a huge number of personal sacrifices involved."

"Ah, I see what you are doing, negotiating. No one who works for me has ever complained they weren't properly compensated. We can let the number crunchers work out the actual sale price. I am offering a signing bonus of a million dollars and annual salary of $250,000 for each of you."

Sam and Sammie gasped in unison. Max laughed, "Alright, you are hard negotiators, 2 million dollars each. That is my final offer, take or leave it."

Taking the boxes from Max, the Johansson's opened them to find identical signet rings displaying ruby hearts. Still on his knees Max requested, "Read the inscription."

They took out the rings and held them up and read, "Because every day should be Valentine's Day."

Max stood up and took their hands and slid the rings on each woman's right-hand index fingers. "It wasn't easy finding your ring sizes; Thomas is really irreplaceable as my man Friday."

"I believe that this merger would be beneficial to both of our companies. I very carefully selected the word proposal — other than for its shock effect. If you accept my proposal, I ask that you wear these rings as a symbol of our commitment to each other to create a company where all its employees wake up every morning and want to come to work. Last night, I watched, not a group of people working for the same company, but a family of individuals working in unison for a single purpose. In today's world, that kind of camaraderie and loyalty are rare. I would like to be a part of it. You have an impressive team that will do anything for you and I would rather have you working with me than against me. If I could teach the rest of my executives your management style, my business interests would be incredibly successful."

Samantha jokingly replied, "That's easy Max just put them all in bras, skirts and high heels."

Max let out a nervous laugh and said, "Present company excluded I'm sure?"

Sam and Sammie gasped in relief as they came to grips with everything that Max had said to them. Not only had this billionaire apologized for his hurtful words, but he was proposing to buy their company. Tears flowed from them both as they realized that the employees that were so important to them would continue to have jobs. The reversal of their financial fortunes was nice too.

Sammie realized that he was holding a cooling pot of tea. "Mr. von Goethe, would you like a cup of tea?" He and Sam stood back from the door to allow him in.

Max stepped into the house saying, "That's the last time I ever expect to hear Mr. von Goethe as my partners you will only call me Max."

They walked to the kitchen nook. While Sam and Max took seats, Sammie made himself busy getting cups, sugar, and cream and reheating the tea. Max took a seat across from Samantha.

After putting the fresh pot of tea on the table Sammie did the honors of pouring for everyone and offered cream and sugar to their guest. This time he took extra care not to spill on Max's lap

"I have just one request, well two actually," Max said. Sam and Sammie looked at him expectantly.

"I ran a check on the two guys I had a run in with last night and found that they were not employees. It seems they both required medical care. Could you see to it that their bills be sent to me? You might also counsel their dates to be more selective in the future."

Sam smiled at that and nodded, recalling her plans to address that exact item.

"My second request is that, with your permission you change the name of your company to Twin Hearts Marketing, to better reflect the philosophy I believe that I sensed from everyone last night."

@ @ @ @ @

Sam and Sammie held an all-company meeting a couple of days later to announce the merger of Johansson Marketing into von Goethe Enterprises. Samuel continued to appear as Sammie, primarily because his chest could not be disguised to reflect the proper image of a businessman. But dressing as a woman allowed him to appear as the successful woman he now was.

Sammie attracted a fair number of appreciative looks from the male members of the staff until they were informed of Sammie's true identity. At the same time no one had a problem with who Sammie really was because they all knew the sacrifice Samuel had made to save the company. If anything, Sammie had garnered an even greater level of respect from the staff. The woman on the staff were particularly grateful, they now had two bosses that were respectful and understanding and a new company policy on sexual harassment. In addition the woman's lavatory was now scheduled for a major upgrade.

Max, Sam, and Sammie voted to have Samantha make the announcement of the merger of the two companies.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have two announcements to make concerning our company. First, for those of you who haven't met him, this is Mr. von Goethe. He is the main reason no one will be losing their jobs. Most of you recognized we were having financial problems. Mr. von Goethe stepped up to the plate and rescued us with an offer we couldn't refuse. He proposed a shotgun wedding between his conglomerate and our firm. We will remain an independent subsidiary now called Twin Hearts Marketing and are free to take on additional clients. The parent company will naturally have first call upon our services."

Nancy raised her hand, "Why are we changing the name of the company to Twin Hearts Marketing?"

Max stood on the side and smiled at the use of 'we' in the question.

"Because every day should be Valentine's Day. Any other questions?"

"Yes, why did you refer to the merger as a shotgun wedding? Is this a hostile takeover?"

"Hostile? No way Nancy, Max proposed the merger with respect for everyone associated with this firm. But, thanks for that question. It leads me into my second announcement. We are going to add a child daycare center here at the headquarters. Free to all employees,"

Sam spread her arms wide in joy as she announced, "A wedding is normally required when there is a pregnancy. I will be one of the first to take advantage of their services. I am pregnant and if the sonogram is correct we're going to have twins." She couldn't help squealing with joy as she finished.

The place erupted in a chorus of applause and congratulations. Sammie rushed to his wife's side and hugged her while she beamed. Of course, it was a shock to Sammie because Daddy always seems to be the last one to find out. He stood there mumbling indecipherably "OMG twins."

FIN