“She’s gone. She left for Australia yesterday with her fucking yoga teacher. How fucking cliché!” Peter Randal stared down into his drink.

“I mean the guy even looks like Chris Hemsworth for fuck sake… and that accent! What a joke! I should have seen it coming a mile away,” Peter choked down his scotch and poured another.

Miles Francis sat nursing his own drink listening to his brother-in-law and couldn’t help but feel a little schadenfreude. He had always been jealous of Peter Randal and his sister, Peter’s trophy-wife Mila.

Miles even hated that his twin sister was called Mila, a name so close to his own. They were fraternal twins being brother and sister and they were almost identical. When they were younger, they were often mistaken for each other by family members and friends; not helped by the fact that their mother Cynthia liked to dress them identically.

“There goes the job. A fucking six figure salary north of five hundred K. The fucking house, the cars, all the fucking perks gone because that bitch wants to pat kangaroos and fuck Crocodile Dundee,” Peter ranted.

“So your love for Mila extends as far as your pocketbook,” Miles said sarcastically.

“Oh come on Miles, you know our marriage has been a sham for over a year. We’ve both been fucking around on each other. It’s not like we have any kids to keep us together. We would have separated anyway if it wasn’t for the prospect of this job,” Peter sucked down his drink.

Miles and his sister had been inseparable until Mila met Peter Randal in her teens. Peter had been captain of their high school football team and valedictorian; he had gone on to college and graduated with honours with degrees in both law and business. Mila had followed him and they married not long after Peter graduated. Peter climbed the corporate ladder at an astounding rate; he was headhunted by some of the most successful companies and he had all the trappings of success: the pretty wife, the opulent down-town apartment, the luxury cars, and the exorbitant lifestyle.

Their excesses fuelled by greed and uncontrollable appetites had been the downfall of their marriage. They had both been spiralling down towards rock bottom due to their exorbitance: booze, drugs, sex and high-rolling. Living in Los Angeles offered every kind of temptation.

“Look at this place Miles. The mortgage is crippling, the cars are leased and the bank accounts are nearly empty and I’m in hock up to my neck to some very bad people,” Peter confessed.

This came as a surprise to Miles who thought Peter and Mila were literally rolling in it.

“But I thought you guys were rich, millionaires or something?” Miles said.

“It went out faster than it came in, not helped by your sister I might add; that woman has expensive tastes,” Peter sighed.

“Maybe if you’d spent more time with her she might not have needed to spend to feel good and she would still be with you now,” Miles said frankly.

“Look, we both have our faults but this job was going to save our marriage and fix our financial woes,” Peter filled his glass again.

“I don’t think moving to a new town and taking a new job would have fixed anything. Isn’t that what alcoholics call ‘doing a geographical?’” he couldn’t help having a dig at Peter.

“You don’t understand Miles. This job… this fucking job was with the Sons of Jehovah. They never hire anyone from outside their church but I have exceptional skills that they desperately want and we were prepared to live by the religious tenets of their church while I was employed by them.”

“And that’s you? Mister exceptional skills and his Stepford wife?” Miles guffawed.

“We made a pact. We would play the part for a year or two or three until we got out of the hole. But Mila fucked me good and proper. She waited until I had the new job locked in and had tendered my resignation from my current position before she left me with that tanned Aussie doofus,” Peter drank a swallow of his Macallan whisky.

“Can’t you just turn up and say that Mila has had an accident or is needed at home by the family or something?” Miles asked.

“You don’t understand Miles. These fuckers required a family tree and conducted background checks; they don’t pay outsiders north of half a million dollars a year unless they can trust them. They know that Mila has no close family except for you and that my family are respectable church-going farmers.”

“Fuck, I even had to send them pictures of Mila, along with a fucking genealogical chart... and then we had to fly out there to be interviewed.”

“Under no circumstances do they allow single men to live amongst them. It’s some Commandment or some shit; I don’t know, but it’s forbidden.”

“I’m screwed Miles. There are things about my employment with the SOJ that I can’t tell you, but they are not going to be happy when I tell them I can’t work for them. The retribution is likely to be severe.”

“But wouldn’t they have found out about your excesses?” Miles asked.

“During the interview we fessed up that we had gone through a rough patch but had gone to marriage counselling and that our marriage was now as solid as ever. They love that shit. Honesty, reconciliation and commitment… if they only knew that Mila had blown some guy in the toilet on the airplane on the way home. Her little way of humiliating me and letting me know that she was holding all the cards.”

“Sounds to me like you need a Mila doppelganger,” Miles joked.

“Well I can’t say it’s been fun and to be honest, I was never your fan but I’m sorry for both yourself and Mila. That said, I’m flat broke and living in a cockroach infested tenement so you won’t get much sympathy from me I’m afraid,” Miles got up to leave.

“Well whose fault is that? You’re thirty-three years old and still tossing burgers. You dropped out of college and hooked up with your buddies thinking you were going to be rock stars; Christ, you haven’t had a steady job since you left school,” Peter said bitterly.

While Peter had been the captain of the football team, Miles had shown no physical abilities at all. He was slender and almost effeminate; he’d been a Goth and then an Emo kid for a while. His interests were music and the arts, he was quiet and emotionally attached to his sister until she took up with Peter when all that changed and she started to look down on Miles as he struggled to get along while she pinned herself to Peter’s coattails.

“I don’t even know why you called me. You don’t like me and we haven’t been close since Mila married you,” Miles was putting on his coat.

“I guess because regardless of everything you are still family. My asshole friends will take great pleasure when they find out I’ve missed out on the chance of a lifetime and my family don’t approve of my lifestyle so who else’s shoulder was I going to cry on?” Peter downed that last of his drink.

“Well sobering up would be a good start. If Mila ever gives you her contact details pass them on to me and I guess I’ll see you around… well I probably won’t. Don’t worry Peter; assholes like you have a way for falling on their feet. I’ll show myself out,” Miles said with some finality.

On the way out miles looked around the luxury apartment with awe and envy. He shrugged his shoulders and shivered at the thought of the cold-water flat that awaited him.

“Anyway… fuck Peter and Mila,” he hissed as he pressed the button for the private elevator.

*****

Peter did sober up the next day but he was in a pique of melancholy. He was sitting in the master bedroom going through old pictures on his tablet when he found one that made him smile. It was Miles and Mila. Miles was dressed in a tuxedo and Mila was dressed in an evening gown. Mila looked pretty and was showing a lot of leg through the split in the side of her satin dress.

He read the caption: Miles and Mila - Halloween 2003 and then he realised what he was looking at. Miles and Mila aged seventeen going to their last Halloween dance. They had dressed as each other and looking at the picture it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. He remembered the night well because he had been astounded at their resemblance to each other and he wouldn’t kiss or feel up Mila until she got changed after the dance because it was just plain weird trying to canoodle with your girlfriend when she looked exactly like her brother.

They both had long blonde hair and Miles still kept his hair long and wore earrings in both ears, trying to hang on to his halcyon days when his band was going somewhere. They had played the gig at the Halloween dance that night and Miles had remained dressed as Mila while on stage and the crowd had gone wild.

The cogs started slowly turning in Peter’s brain as the cobwebs of his hangover dissipated. He stepped into an icy-cold shower to fully wake himself up and then treated himself to a long hot shower where the seeds of a plan started to germinate. He came out of the ensuite bathroom dressed in his bathrobe and stared at the Halloween picture while he worked the phone.

Mila had friends in the theatre and therefore by default so did Peter. One of those friends, Steven Boutros, liked nose candy and Peter had been his source for a while. Steven was one of the few theatre friends they had who was straight and he and Peter had hit on a few of the young actresses in Steven’s theatre production company with varying degrees of success. Peter gave Steven a call and invited him around for drinks and some blow.

Steven was immediately suspicious when Peter drank spring water while Steven drank expensive Macallan whisky and snorted a couple of lines.

“So why did you invite me around to a party and then sit there sober?” Steven asked.

“I got this crazy idea that you might be able to help me with. You’ve coached actors for years right?” Peter sipped his spring water.

“Yeah. So what’s this crazy idea?”

Peter picked up his tablet and showed him the Halloween picture.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me?” Steven chuckled when Peter told him his plan.

“Look, only a couple of people out there in Redhaven have met Mila, and then only briefly. The resemblance is uncanny right?” Peter had switched to scotch.

“Do you realise the commitment involved? Does he?” Steven wagged a finger at Peter.

“He would have to literally become Mila twenty-four, seven for as long as you’re there. There can be no vacations from her once he becomes her, if he reverts to himself, even for a short while, he’s libel to fuck up.”

“What do you mean twenty-four seven? Can’t he just dress like her when I need her? You know parties, work gatherings, dinners and shit.” Peter swallowed and poured.

“That won’t work; they will want her to socialise with the other wives, charities, church shit, those SOJ women are almost fucking Stepford wives.”

“Or somebody drops by. ‘Where’s Mila?’ they ask. ‘Well she ain’t here but her identical brother is,’ you say. ‘No shit! He spends a lot of time here but he never spends time with his sister.’”

“How long you think that will play? Miles will need to be committed to becoming Mila full time.”

Peter was thinking it was the second time now that he heard the term Stepford wife and wondered if the prospect of that lifestyle been the catalyst for Mila’s departure

“Ok Steve I get it. How long will it take you to teach him, to train him, whatever the fuck you call it?” Peter was excited now.

“How long do you have?” Steven finished his drink and held out his glass for more.

“Three weeks,” Peter topped off Steven’s drink.

“But that’s not the question. The question is how much?” Peter grinned.

“Well now. This is gonna be a lot of work plus you’re buying my secrecy… so how much you got?” Steven grinned back.

They went back and forth for a while and finally struck a deal.

“There’s one more thing,” Peter offered Steven the small mirror with the blow cut into lines.

Steven did a line in each nostril.

“Yeah what's that?” Steven rubbed the residue off the mirror into his gums.

“I haven’t told Miles yet,” Peter took back the mirror and did a couple of lines while Steven unleashed a string of obscenities.

*****

“You’re fucking joking right? You can’t be serious!” Miles was astounded at Peter’s proposition.

“I’ve made a few enquires Miles. You still have unpaid student loans, you’re about to be evicted by your landlord and you owe money all around town.”

“I’ll acquit all your debts. You’ll have somewhere nice to live, some getting around money, a car, freedom to do whatever you want except when I need you,” Peter opened his hands wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“You don’t have any money; you told me so,” Miles replied.

“I have money, just not the kind I’m used to having and anyway I have an advance from the Sons of Jehovah.”

“So I get all this stuff and the freedom to do whatever I want so long as I live my life pretending to be my sister,” Miles exhaled.

“You’re crazy. Even if I agreed to your preposterous plan, I could never pull it off.”

“Sure you could. You look like her, you even sound a lot like her with that whiney dusky voice of hers,” Peter chuckled.

“Way to get me to agree to your ridiculous proposal; insult me,” Miles stood up to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey… I was just getting in practice treating you like I do Mila,” Peter reached out to calm Miles down.

Miles sat back down and took a beer when Peter offered it.

“How long?” Miles asked.

Peter felt a little uplifted by the question.

“I’d say we do it for a year. It would need to be at least that long to meet my contractual obligation to the SOJ Church patriarchs.”

“Then we figure it out; they want me for two years. If you wanna leave after a year, maybe we have a marital dispute and you leave me, something like that. But if we don’t agree to live by their church rules I get nothing. I’ll be in breach of contract.”

“And Mila knew this when she left you?” Miles took a pull on his beer and Peter nodded.

“Man, she really twisted the knife,” Miles smiled wickedly.

“And now the real question. If and I mean if… and it’s a huge if… If I was to do it; how much do I get?”

“I told you. You get to live in a nice house, get the use of a nice car, some running around cash and three squares a day plus the pleasure of my company,” Peter raised his bottle and gestured to Miles.

Miles held his bottle close to his chest.

“That’s the problem. I have to live in the same house as you. I want more than running around money; I want half,” Peter swigged at his bottle.

“You’re fucking crazy Miles. Mila wouldn’t have got half is she’d stayed,” Peter growled.

“I bet she would have and probably more. I understand you lovebirds had no prenup,” Miles smiled and drank again.

“You stick to it. No bailing out once we’re in… and you do everything that Steven Boutros tells you to,” Peter said resignedly.

“Steven who?” Miles asked.

“You’ll find out. Get out of that shithole you’re living in and put whatever you own that you think might be worth anything in storage. You’re moving in here tomorrow. You have three weeks to become your sister; you already drive me crazy like she does,” Peter held out his bottle and Miles finally clinked his against it.

*****

Miles had very little to put into storage: a big Marshall stage amp, a Gibson Les Paul Custom and a cherry-red Gibson SG were the only things he owned of any value.

But there was one last thing he was going to do before he left his flat. His landlord was an asshole but his wife Linda was quite attractive for a larger woman in her fifties and she’d been giving Miles the eye. Linda liked to get around in tight skirts and dresses showing off her big tits and long legs which she always kept swathed in sheer nylons and her feet were perpetually shod in high-heels. She had big red hair and her face had been worked on, her lips were formed in a perpetual pout. The drummer in his band called them ‘blow-job lips’.

Miles caught up with her in the basement laundry where she was bending over one of the machines putting in her washing. Her dress had ridden up and he could see right up her thighs to her purple satin panties which encased her large firm buttocks. Miles had a thing for a good pair of legs in pantyhose; he liked the sheen of the diaphanous material and the soft, silky feel of the fabric when he ran his hands along a calf or a thigh.

The other two machines were going flat out on the spin cycle and Linda hadn’t heard him come in. He closed the door and locked it. Miles crept up behind Linda, all the time admiring those big firm thighs and that luscious plump derriere.

Miles waited until he was directly behind her before he spoke.

“Hello Linda.”

Linda jumped; startled by his presence. Then she turned around. It took her a few seconds to gain her composure during which her dress remained high up on her thighs and Miles did not hide the fact that he was ogling them. Linda blushed and then gained her aplomb, pulling down the hem of her dress and smiling at him with those plump red-lipsticked lips. She was blushing.

“Hello Miles,” her smile widened when she saw it was him.

“I’m afraid this is going to be goodbye. I’m moving out,” he spoke directly to her buxom breasts.

Her tits had had some work done too. They were big, straining at the buttons of her aqua-blue Charmeuse dress that was so inappropriate for housework but typical of her. Linda always looked like she was dressed for a night on the town with her short skirts, high heels, big hair and heavy makeup. She and her husband Stanislav were Slavic of some sort; he was skinny, mean and spoke poor English. Linda was generous, extravagant with her gestures, touchy one might say, and spoke good English with a Ukrainian accent. She was the personification of the overdressed, some would say vulgar, Slavic woman living in the West with some money to spend on herself.

Instead of leaning back away from Miles she stepped closer, almost touching him and he was enveloped in miasma of perfume. She touched him gently on the shoulder, her fingers were long and her manicured fingernails were bright-red, just like her lipstick.

“It’s Stanislav isn’t it? I told him to fix the plumbing in your flat and replace the cooktop but who listens to an old woman like me?” her eyes were bright and she was smiling with that saucy grin of hers.

Miles knew that she was bullshitting. Stanislav might be a tight-fisted, mean, cantankerous asshole but he worshipped Linda and was at her beck and call.

“I’ll be so sorry to see you go,” Linda stroked his cheek affectionately.

“Me too,” Miles smiled wanly.

“Will you miss poor little Linda?” she doubled down on the pout.

“I’ll miss that I never got the chance to fuck you,” Miles grinned at her.

Her mood changed and he saw the anger rise in her eyes and she pulled her hand away from his face and bought it back and raised it, ready to slap him. Miles caught her wrist mid-slap, his eyes never leaving hers. He could see the glint of lust under the anger and instead of backing away she held her ground, almost challenging him.

Miles pulled Linda into him, still holding her wrist. He crushed his lips against hers and he felt a sob in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a sob of dismay, it was growl of lust. He let go of her wrist and pulled Linda hard against him, her pillowy breasts felt wonderful against his chest. He was wearing a thin T-shirt and he could feel the heft of her bosom squashing against him.

Linda feigned a struggle, it was half-hearted and it was more like she was wriggling against him than trying to escape, she didn’t even break their kiss. Suddenly she stopped. She pressed her hands against his chest and leaned back a little but Miles still held her in his embrace.

“An old woman like me is no match for a strong young man like you. You have overpowered me and I am yours for the taking. Please just spare my Stanislav the indignity of knowing that his wife was forced to surrender her virtue.”

Miles thought that her act might have received the Ukrainian version of an Oscar.

Linda crushed her lips against Miles and this time there was no pretence of reticence, she opened those big lips wide and thrust her tongue into Miles’ mouth and worked it around his mouth with relish. If that wasn’t a signal for him to fuck her, squeezing his hard cock through his tight jeans certainly was.

Miles wanted to get to her breasts but they were crushed against his chest so he went exploring under her dress instead. His fingers stroked her silken thighs and worked their way up to her panties. She was wearing full-cut satin panties over her pantyhose and he liked the feel of the slippery fabric when he rubbed it against her mound. He felt Linda shudder in his embrace and she sighed in his mouth as he traced the outline of her cleft through the layers of satin and nylon.

Linda kissed him harder and rocked back and forth on her heels as he worked his fingers on her sex, he could feel the protruding mound of her vulva and her fleshy lips through the fabric of her panties. She was hot and wet and a scintilla of her vaginal aroma drifted from under her dress. She clamped his hand between her fleshy thighs and rocked back and forwards while Miles pushed his fingers into her sodden minge.

Linda frantically unzipped him and improved his erection to full tumescence and guided him between her thighs. Miles removed his hand and made way for his penis which Linda pressed against her sex and then slammed her thighs shut. The feel of his hard cock encased in her nylon-sheathed thighs pressing on her sex through her sodden slick panties was wonderful and he kissed her harder.

Linda backed up to the washing machine and surprised him by spinning around, bending over and holding onto the washing machine while thrusting out her buttocks invitingly. Bent over like that she was a magnificent sight, those awesome, purple-satin clad buttocks thrust out, her dress hiked up around her waist, her long legs sheathed in shimmering nylons and those spiky black high heels spread invitingly apart.

“Come on Miles; we don’t have much time. Who knows when Stanislav will come home?” Linda wiggled her buttocks encouragingly.

Miles stepped between her legs and dropped his pants. He slid the gusset of her purple panties aside revealing Linda’s shaved mound. Her pink lips were protruding from her vulva and her pantyhose were glistening with her secretions. Miles poked a finger into the gauzy nylon and made a cock-sized hole and leaned forward and thrust himself deep inside Linda.

Her vagina was unexpectedly tight and Miles thought for a fleeting second that she may have had some work done there too but her hot buttery cleft clinging to his throbbing hard cock demanded his full attention.

“Fuck me Miles! Fuck me!” Linda urged him with that sexy accent.

Miles obliged and grasped Linda’s hips and began to thrust his cock in and out of her, enjoying every stroke. Linda put a hand inside her underwear so she could finger her clitoris while he fucked her. Miles pressed against her soft buttocks and reached under Linda and tore open the bodice of her dress. She started to berate him but stopped when he freed her huge breasts and began to squeeze and fondle them while he fucked her. He tweaked her nipples making them swell and Linda moaned like a slattern.

While this was enjoyable, Miles wanted better access to Linda’s body. He let go of her bosom and entwined his fingers in her hair and pulled his cock out of her. He frog-marched her over to the folding bench. He spun her around and lifted her onto the bench, grunting with the effort. Linda opened her legs wide and Miles stepped between them and Linda closed her legs around him as he entered her. He lowered his face to hers and they kissed passionately while they fucked.

Linda encouraged him, mouthing obscenities around their wet sloppy kisses while Miles fucked her deep and hard, gradually increasing the pace as Linda spurned him on, her silken-clad calves pressing his flanks and her high heels digging into his back.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Linda screamed and Miles tried to silence her by kissing her harder but he was ejaculating inside her and the pleasure was overwhelming.

Linda raised her crotch off the bench so she could grind her vulva against Miles’ pubis to open her cuntal lips wide and stimulate her clitoris. She felt Miles’ hot semen flood her tight passage and she used her cunt-muscles to grip his cock and rend every drop of his spend from him.

Miles fell on top of her when he had finally stopped ejaculating and Linda kissed him passionately and then stopped and kissed him once, chastely on the forehead.

“Good boy. Now get off Linda so she can fix herself before Stanislav gets home,” she stood and pushed her breasts inside her brassiere and began to button her dress.

Miles found some paper towel and wiped his dripping cock.

“Here. Give me,” Linda held out her hand and waggled her fingers.

Miles tore off a wad of the paper towel and Linda wiped her cunt vigorously and unceremoniously dropped the paper in the wastebasket. She straightened her pantyhose and panties and smoothed out her dress and then she reached for her handbag and took out a hairbrush and her makeup case.

“What you waiting around for? You’re a good boy Miles, give Linda the fucking she needs but you better go,” Linda was fussing with her makeup.

Now that he had fucked Linda, Miles felt a little deflated, let down. She was a good fuck but there was no longer a challenge, he did like fucking her in her pantyhose though, he had a real fetish for them.

“Thanks Linda,” Miles said and did up the button on his jeans and reached for the door.

“Thanks for what? You forced Linda remember?” she gave him a salacious wink and made shooing motions with her hand.

*****

Miles Francis disappeared the next day. Not that it mattered. With his debts paid, his flat vacated and his job quit, there was no one to come looking for him. His sister was down-under with her new beau and his family had long ago given up on him.

Miles was met by Steven Boutros, who introduced himself and told Miles why he was there.

“I started in the theatre doing anything I could at first: property, costumes, makeup, even taking small parts until my first play was accepted by a production company. The gist is that I know enough to get you started but most of the hard work will be on you,” Steven explained leading Miles upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

The bedroom was very feminine, with a satin comforter trimmed with lace on the big bed, far too many pillows than was practical, the bedclothes complemented the drapes and carpet. There was a huge walk-in robe and ensuite bathroom. A dressing table with a huge mirror and vanity lights took up space on one wall. Arranged on it were cosmetics, perfumes and all of the trappings required by a woman who is obsessed by her appearance.

Pinned to the walls was life-size full-body photographs of Mila and around the dressing table were a number of portraits. The pictures reflected her dressed in different styles: casually, formally, in daywear and in cocktail attire.

Steven closed the door behind them and took a seat next to the dressing table.

“Ok Mila let’s see what we have to work with,” he said.

Miles started to undress, he knew what Steven wanted.

“From now on you will answer only to Mila, you will think of yourself only as Mila and you will be addressed only as Mila. Can you do that?”

Halloween 2003 was not the only time he had pretended to be Mila. He and Mila had played the prank many times while they were growing up. Miles was sure that his fetish for pantyhose, stockings and lingerie had its roots in those times when he had presented himself to the world as a girl. Halloween 2003 was the last time they had pulled the prank; brother and sister were already drifting apart by then. Although Miles hadn’t dressed enfemme since then, his fetish had bloomed and he would slip into a pair of pantyhose and panties now and then when the urge took him.

“Ok. From now on I’m Mila,” Miles closed his eyes and tried to become his sister.

Mila stood naked in the middle of the room while Steven Boutros walked around her, clinically examining her.

Mila had blonde hair that came halfway down her back that was in severe need of a cut and style. Her facial skin was amazingly soft and her beard was light with hardly any hair on the sides of her face just a smattering around her upper lip, lower jaw and chin. Steven had been shown photos of Miles with a goatee that he had tried to grow but it was wispy and patchy and had not been a success. He tilted Mila’s face this way and that as he examined her.

“You have a good face and good skin. We can deal with your beard initially with some concealer after you’ve shaved but you are going to start laser hair removal as soon as possible.”

“We’ll do your hair and eyebrows this afternoon.”

Steven critically assessed the rest of Mila’s body.

“You’re very slim and not a lot of muscle which is good,” he commented.

“I run for an hour very day but I hate the gym,” Mila said.

“Good. Keep it up; you have great legs with hardly any hair and those few rouge hairs in the middle of your chest can be plucked.”

“The obvious bits we will need to work on are these,” Steven casually hefted Mila’s penis and scrotum.

“And of course these,” he moved his hands to Mila’s flat chest.

“Both are easily fixed believe it or not. The hardest part will be developing your posture, your mannerisms, and your speech. We call it your countenance; how you present yourself to the world.”

“This will work best if we have you looking as much like Mila as we can as soon as possible. Pluck those chest hairs out. If you can’t do it I will. Shave your face closely and shave your legs and under your arms. Take a nice long shower and wash your hair; just get it clean for now and brush it out, I have a hairdresser coming.”

Mila nodded and did as she was told. To stop herself thinking that this was a bad idea she just thought about the money.

Mila came out of the bathroom wearing a silk robe and nothing else. She was immediately led to the dressing table by Steven Boutros and an unnamed hairdresser to whom she was never introduced.

“I want everyone’s attention drawn to her face. She has great bone structure and good skin so let’s get her a fresh hairstyle for a fresh beginning shall we?” Steven said to the hairdresser, ignoring Mila.

Mila realised that she wouldn’t be consulted about the transformation and was smart enough to know that it was best left in the hands of the experts.

“Colour?” the hairdresser fussed with Mila’s hair, lifting it and parting it.

“We need to get rid of that dirty-blonde shag. We want her hair to draw attention to her face but she’s thirty-three not sixteen so we need something sophisticated but striking. I’d recommend a blunt bob; it express attitude, it’s an edgy hairstyle that shows she’s down to business, in a highly stylish way. The lighter we go, the more outgoing her final look will be.”

“Platinum? Or will that be going too far?” the hairdresser asked.

“Check these out; I got them online. The SOJ are like some of the evangelists in that they like their women to go out of the way to look glamorous. They are not prudes in that regard.”

Steven showed the hairstylist and Mila a series of pictures of well dressed, in some cases you could say sexy, SOJ women. They wore fashionable clothes, professional makeup and modern hairstyles.

“Well fuck it; let’s go platinum with a blunt bob with bangs,” the hairdresser began to lay out his equipment on the bathroom vanity.

Once again Mila was not consulted and Steven left them to it. The hairdresser never asked why he was giving this pale thin man a woman’s haircut.

Mila emerged two hours later and Steven was taken aback at the results. The stylist had plucked Mila’s brows, coloured and shaped them and then done an amazing job colouring and cutting her hair.

Her hair was almost silver and had a sheen to it. The blunt-cut bob was cut into a straight line at the ends. It was edgy and sophisticated; it complimented her heart-shaped face gorgeously emphasising her jaw area, bringing a strong and flattering look. And this even before they had put makeup on her.

“Look this hairstyle is classy yet simple and straightforward and ensures comfort and easiness in styling, she won’t have too many problems maintaining it until she finds her own hairstylist,” the hairdresser said to Steven; once again ignoring Mila.

Steven took the hairstylist to the door and money changed hands and then he returned to Mila who had been left sitting at the dresser.

“I’m going to do your makeup and I’ll explain to you what I’m doing and how to do it. We’ll take a few snaps and then wipe it off and then it’s up to you to get it right. You’re going to do this every day, applying different shades and styles of makeup for different occasions. Today we’ll go with eveningwear; let’s see how sexy we can make you look.”

Mila’s sister was known for her heavy eye makeup and red lipstick, it was her signature. Steven took his time and got her smoky eyes perfect, the lipstick was easy. It was of course not the first time Mila had worn makeup impersonating her sister but this was the first time she had it done professionally. He sprayed her liberally with perfume.

Mila looked good; very few people would have guessed it was Miles hiding under that hairstyle and makeup. Steven took some snaps of her and then left Mila for the rest of the morning to practice her makeup skills. While she did that he attacked her wardrobe. Mila had left with her beau in a hurry and they had travelled light. Most of Mila's extensive wardrobe was left behind.

Steven sorted through it, talking to Mila, still dressed in the silk dressing gown and practicing her makeup skills.

“You won’t need all of this where you’re going; your sister was quite the clotheshorse. Some of it won’t fit you well either, you aren’t exactly her body shape,” Steven explained as he ripped clothes off hangers and tossed them on the bed.

When Steven was happy that Mila had the basics right he told her she could cease makeup practice which was just as well as Mila’s eyes were getting sore from constantly applying and then wiping off eyeliner and mascara.

“Finish up with some day makeup and you can break for lunch. Don’t eat too much because I’m fitting you this afternoon,” Steven instructed.

While Mila ate a salad at the breakfast bar downstairs, Steven put a foot measuring device on her feet and wrote down the measurements. Mila had told Steven that on the occasions that she had dressed as her sister, the one thing that didn’t fit well was her shoes. After a while they would squeeze her feet painfully and the next day she had blisters. This would not do for a woman who was going to be expected to wear high heels almost every day.

He had Mila stand and measured under her chest with a measuring tape. Steven explained that the trick was to wrap the tape around where the band will sit, which is under her breasts and straight across her back, keeping the measuring tape taut, but not tight.

“You’re tits are going to be an issue as I presume you are not volunteering for implants,” Steven wrote down her measurements in a little book.

Mila didn’t answer the rhetorical question. Breast implant surgery could be reversed but it would take time and money that Peter didn’t have, and anyway, Mila was not having her body mutilated for any amount of money.

“The good thing is when Peter took your sister to meet those SOJ assholes they only met the Reverend, his wife and two other couples and they were only there for a couple of days. Your sister’s tits aren’t that memorable so I doubt anyone will notice you’ve dropped a bra size.”

“It’s too risky to use breastforms like they do in the drag shows; even the really expensive ones would be obvious under a low-cut top or dress. I’m having a bra custom tailored with chicken fillet inserts that will give you B-cup breasts which will look proportional to your frame,” Steve explained while Mila munched salad and once again regretted what she had gotten into.

Everything was so complicated. She thought she could just toss on a dress, pantyhose, heels and makeup and that would serve the purpose but she realised that becoming her sister was going to require full-time concentration and effort.

“So here’s what’s happening this afternoon. I’m sending someone to buy a cheap pair of heels using the measurements I took. You’re going to wear them for a few days and if they are all good Peter will have to kick in for some Jimmy Choo’s or Louboutin’s, Mila didn’t wear rubbish shoes.”

“The bra will be easy to make, my seamstress at the theatre is working on it while we speak. If the prototype fits we’ll get some quality bras fitted with the chicken fillet inserts. Your tits will look great and you won’t have to worry about a silicon boob flying across the table during dinner,” Steven joked.

Mila smiled meekly.

“What are these chicken fillets?”

“They are transparent soft breast inserts. They fit snugly inside your bra cup and because of the curved shape they will follow the natural line of your breasts and subtly boost your bust size and give you cleavage. In your case we will be creating almost invisible pockets in the cups of your bras for them to slip into so they won’t be detectable no matter what.”

“That is unless I take my bra off,” Mila couldn’t help dampening Steven’s enthusiasm.

“I am assuming that will only happen in the privacy of your bedroom. We will also get a couple of sports bras made and a swimsuit.”

“Really?” Mila was surprised.

“How serious do you think this is Mila? You’re going to live Mila’s life on her behalf not just pop up like some fucking puppet when you are needed. You're going to have to take your daily run, go swimming, go shopping, and meet other ladies for lunch. All the things a normal wife would do on a daily basis. If you just hide in your room and only come out for social events people will become suspicious. Those SOJ ladies like to gossip.”

“Ok get your ass upstairs we have a lot to do. I’m going to teach you how to tuck and this is one thing you will need to get perfect, we do not want a testicle popping out halfway through the ladies tennis tournament,” Steven sniggered.

On the few occasions that Mila had pretended to be her sister, she had simply tucked her penis and scrotum between her legs and her pantyhose and panties had held them in place with varying degrees of success. What Steven taught her was really just a refined version of the same process.

Steven explained the mechanics of tucking while he had her stand naked with her feet apart while he manipulated her. Mila was a little uncomfortable but she had come to trust Steven, he really knew what he was doing.

“Your testicles descend into the scrotum from two little chutes called the inguinal canals and they commonly slip back inside the body during sex, and you can easily push them in the canals whenever you desire. This phenomenon is really useful; simply press your testicles upward and inward and voila! They vanish.”

“Tucking will feel uncomfortable the first few times, but eventually the practice will become second nature. You can’t keep tucked for too long otherwise you are going to do some damage so you can untuck at night or maybe around the house if you think it’s safe.”

“Once you hide your testes, you need to tuck the rest of your penis. Reach around and tug your penis from behind to put it in between your buttocks along the perineum wrapped it in your empty scrotum. Once everything is in position, you must squeeze it all between your legs to prevent it from coming undone and use surgical tape to keep it all in place.”

Steven was doing this while he was explaining and Mila was quite amazed by the results when he had finished. She had a smooth flat ‘V’ in front.

“Here try these,” Steven tossed her a pair Mila’s panties.

She slipped into them and was amazed to see that she looked just like a woman down there.

“It’s going to be hard to take a piss but you’re going to have to figure out that for yourself. I’ve had some trans women tell me they can sit down and piss just like a lady and others have told me they have no choice but to untuck, take a piss, and then tuck and tape again. Figure it out and quick. Peter won’t want you coming back from the ladies room in a nice restaurant with a piss-soaked evening gown.”

“Ok get untucked and then you do it,” Steven ducked out on the balcony and lit a cigarette.

Mila was surprised how easy it was to tuck with a little practice; she wished makeup was that easy. She followed Steven out on the balcony.

“Can I have one of those?” she pointed to the pack of Marlboro menthols.

“Does Mila smoke?” Steven asked.

“Secretly yes,” Mila replied.

“Then you better have one,” Steven offered her the pack and then lit her cigarette for her.

“You sure know a lot about this stuff,” Mila leaned on the balustrade and blew smoke.

“Thirty years in the theatre starting out at the bottom you learn a lot. I spent a year working at a drag review,” Steve leaned on the rail beside her.

“But you aren’t gay?”

“Shit no. Not all the drag queens are gay either but most are. I’ll tell you what though… I’m not gay but trannies don’t count,” he slapped Mila playfully on the ass and butted out his cigarette.

“Come on, we’re nearly done for the day,” he opened the curtain for Mila to step back inside.

Mila was still trying to get her head around the ‘trannies don’t count’ jibe but there was too much going on in her head.

The doorbell rang and Steven grinned.

“Just in time. Fix your makeup honey and check your tuck, it’s time for a fitting.”

Steven came back upstairs with two packages. He opened one which contained a white satin brassiere. Steven had Mila stand naked in the middle of room while he fitted and adjusted it.

“That looks good,” he said more to himself than to Mila.

He tossed Mila a pair of Haynes, fifteen denier, sheer-to-the-waist tan pantyhose.

“You know how to put these on?” Steven asked.

Mila blushed. Not just because she had worn them before when impersonating her sister but because she liked to wear them for sexual gratification when the urge took her.

Mila sat on the edge of the bed and rolled up one of the legs of the pantyhose and slipped it over her foot and eased it up her calf and then she did the same with the other foot. Because her legs were freshly shaved the sheer hose felt delightful against her sensitive skin as she eased them up her thighs and then up around her waist. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the legs and adjusted the gusset around her tucked penis.

“You’ve done that more than once or twice,” Steven said.

Mila ignored him and took the pair of white full-cut satin panties and stepped into them. She sighed audibly as she pulled them up her legs, the satin slipping over her nylons created little sparks of delectation and Mila bit her lips to prevent herself from sighing again. Her cock was becoming uncomfortably thick between her legs but the tape held.

Steven helped Mila to her feet and had her turn around while he examined her critically.

“You’d pass nine times out of ten. We need to work on your posture and mannerisms but you look good. Here; take a look,” Steven led her over to the full-length mirror.

Mila was amazed. She’d seen herself dressed as a woman before but she looked beautiful with her platinum blonde hair caressing to her shoulders, her pretty face with smoky eyes, her perky breasts, slim waist, tight buttocks and long legs clad in the gossamer hose.

“Slip these on,” Steve put a pair of black four-inch high heeled pumps on the floor.

Mila put a foot in one of them and it fitted perfectly, then Steven steadied her while she slipped into the other. She stumbled and fell against him and he held her close, his face inches from hers, he inhaled her perfume. He saw the alarm in her face and he helped to steady her and then released her.

“Look now.”

And she did and she loved what she saw. Her stance wearing the high heels pushed out her buttocks and put more shape into her calf and thigh muscles so her legs looked even longer and sexier.

They went back into the bedroom, she a little unsteady on her feet but getting the hang of walking in the heels; after all it wasn’t the first time.

Steven lifted a dress off the pile of clothing on the bed and helped Mila but it on. It was scoop-neck summer dress with a flounce to the skirt. Something she could wear during the day and still look sexy. He zipped the back of it for her and took her back to the mirror.

Mila was looking at her twin sister.

“Enough for today. You sleep in this room tonight; we start early tomorrow. You’re getting your first laser treatment then I’m bringing in a voice coach. You’ll be practicing movement and voice most of tomorrow and of course makeup and tucking.”

“Keep practicing your makeup tonight; try to get a nice evening effect. You stay dressed as Mila at all times including your bed clothes. There are plenty here to choose from. Try them all on and see what you look best in. I want a fashion parade tomorrow,” Steven actually smiled at her for the first time.

“Goodnight Mila,” Steven leaned in and brushed his lips on her cheek.

Mila hadn’t even noticed that it had got dark outside.

To be continued