Prologue

She was seriously freaking out. This couldn't be happening.

Her heart hammering so much that she was sure the woman she was working on could feel it.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Dana was a professional. She was a rising star in the art of make-up, an art that constantly put her into intimately close proximity with her clients.

The relationship between Dana and her clients had to be intimate, but despite the intimacy, she was expected to maintain her composure and behave like a professional. That was a given.

Over the past three years, she had applied her artifice to some of the brightest stars and starlets in Hollywood. She had worked on actors, models, musicians, and every type of performer. During a visit to Los Angeles, she had even been summoned to prepare the wife of the President for a gala event in Hollywood!

Her skills were in demand and her professionalism was unquestioned. Moreover, she was married to her college sweetheart. She had never strayed, never even flirted with another. She loved and adored her husband and had never been tempted.

Besides that.....she was straight!

Dana had never found another woman attractive.

As she applied liner to those gorgeous eyes, the shining blue orbs met her own hazel ones and something jolted her to her core. The heat of their breath intermingled, caressing their faces as she struggled to clear her mind and gain some focus.

She tried to stifle the shudder that coursed through her body as she put the final touches on Sloan Taylor's face.

Sloan Taylor, who was the most captivating person she had ever seen.

Sloan Taylor, who made the blood rushing through her veins pound like a runaway freight train.

Sloan Taylor, whose doe-like innocence and sexual energy seemed to radiate outward in waves.

Sloan Taylor, who had her panties dripping with arousal.

Sloan Taylor....her husband.

In that moment, Dana wondered if her life could ever be the same.

Chapter One

Dana was exhausted. Her day had begun before dawn, and it was almost 8 PM now.

"Hey babe, did you remember milk?" Sloan's voice called out as she closed the front door of their tiny Venice Beach bungalow.

"Damn," Dana replied. "I'm sorry, I was totally swamped on the set and just forgot."

The scent of Italian food wafted through the small home as his head popped over the partition that separated the kitchen from the Living/Dining area. His smile was so tender that her fatigue disappeared. She just admired her husband as he replaced the lid on a pot and came toward her.

"No worries, I figured you might, so I picked some up on my way back from the audition."

Sloan enveloped Dana into a warm embrace, and she just melted into his arms. Their lips merged as he kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands slid up her sides, caressing her.

As their passionate kisses became more heated, she pulled back....her breath ragged, "Dinner's gonna burn"

His eyes twinkled. "I turned the stove off the moment I saw your face."

He lifted her tiny frame in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. At just under 5 feet tall it was no great feat. Besides, although Sloan himself was only 5-8, he had a swimmer's build and a lithe strength that made it effortless.

Placing his wife on the bed, he began to unbutton her blouse, leaning over her with a look that easily conveyed his desire. She gazed in wonder at this gorgeous man who looked like he had been sculpted by Donatello. His face was beautiful in a way that was almost androgynous. She saw the looks he got from women (and more than a few men). Her husband was so beautiful. She marveled that of all the women in the world he had chosen her.

Opening her blouse, he unclasped the bra between her breasts and pulled it apart, exposing her small breasts. She had always been self-conscious about her body before she met Sloan. At 4-11 and 96 pounds she only measured 32-22-34, and her breasts barely filled a B cup. Without saying a word about it, from their first moment together, she knew... really knew, that he would not want her to change a thing. His desire for her made her feel sexy, wanted, desired.

She watched him through half-lidded eyes as his own seemed to drink in her body. His fingers almost reverent as he reached out to caress each mound, feeling the nipples as they hardened like pencil erasers. A moan escaped Dana's lips as she felt a stirring between her legs, moistening her panties.

Sloan responded to her need as if he could smell her pheromones as well as her unspoken plea. Pulling her skirt down her legs and off, as she lay on her back spread out like a virgin sacrifice upon the altar of the bed, he knelt at her feet, gazing up the length of her body. His naturally pale blue eyes were deeper and darker almost glowing with his desire. He gently removed her shoes as he began to lovingly bathe her feet with lips and tongue.

She pressed her ass down into the bed as she began to writhe under his mouth. His tongue and hot breath making her mewl in desire as he placed his hands at her knees and began parting her legs, working his way higher.

By the time he reached her glistening labia, she was barely coherent. Her head rocked from side to side as he began to tease his way along the folds of moist flesh, licking, nibbling, rubbing, bringing her to a higher state of arousal as she willed him to push her over the cliff. Dutifully, as if sensing that now was the time, he parted the moist lips of her pussy with the length of his tongue, lapping deeply as his nose pressed up the length of her and nudged her swollen clitoris, sending her body into pulsating waves of ecstasy. Her fingers clenching and unclenching on the soft duvet as her body shuddered with the force of her eruption.

He stopped, sensing her need for respite, knowing that her tender clitty was extremely sensitive in the moments after her overwhelming response to his oral assault. As her breathing normalized, he began undressing himself, making a show of it as he felt the heat of her gaze. As he unzipped his jeans, she could see the turgid shaft, pressed hard against his abdomen by the tight briefs.

He smiled down upon her as he lowered them and stepped out, eight inches of swollen flesh, rampant and glistening at the crown as a drop of precum began to grow and dangle before he wrapped his slender hand around the head, moisturizing the shaft as he stroked himself slowly, tantalizing her.

Climbing on the bed between her knees he began teasing her with it, stroking it along her vaginal lips and pressing it briefly against her clitoris.

She needed him. Wanted him. Needed to have him fill her with his hard cock.

"P-Plee.....OHMIGOD!!!!" her soft entreaty was never fully articulated before he sank the entire length into her tight pussy, her vaginal walls spasming as the fat intruder filled her, almost painfully. He paused and she felt him flex deep within her as her own body struggled to accommodate him. His eyes never wavered from hers, their bodies merged as one, their souls entwined. As Dana became accustomed to his cock, buried inside her, she began to squirm. Like a well orchestrated dance, he pulled back in counterstroke and they began to make love. Each stroke was a symphony, their combined climax building in a rising crescendo that left them both gasping and spent.

"MMMMMMMMMM...Happy anniversary." The words were a shared breath as they spoke as one.

Chapter Two

They say that opposites attract, but the couple seemed almost alike in every major way. Neither had ever had a serious relationship. Sloan had dated a few girls in high school, but was never into the whole dating scene. On the stage he was forceful, outgoing and confident. A bright comet. A STAR! Off the stage he was meek and soft-spoken, painfully shy and nervous.

Dana had been an ugly duckling. Her braces and gangly body made her a perpetual wallflower. She found her niche as a theater geek. She worked tirelessly behind the scenes in tech, props, wardrobe, and makeup, where her skills really stood out. Her senior direct of Little Shop of Horrors was so polished that her Drama teacher contacted an old college friend and got her invited to UCLA. Despite this early success, her self-image suffered as she never recognized her own body blossoming from ugly duckling to graceful swan.

When boys (and a few girls) expressed interest, Dana never took them seriously...until she met Sloan Taylor. They both seemed to recognize within the other a kindred soul. Both were quiet and shy. Both were soft-spoken and rarely displayed anger. Both were listeners and observers, rather than talkers....but they seemed to communicate with each other in a non-verbal way almost from the moment they met.

They had been together since their Freshman year at UCLA. Sloan was a theater and film major from Davenport, Iowa. Dana had grown up in Mesquite, Texas and was also studying theater. Their main difference was that, while Sloan wanted to be an actor, Dana was more comfortable behind the scenes. The attraction between them had been immediate. By the end of their first semester they were an item. By the end of the year they were virtually inseparable.

During college, they each honed their skills, but Dana's were much more marketable. Sloan was a talented actor, whose androgynous looks made him difficult to cast. He also had a talent for voices and was able to pick up some work doing animated characters and voice-overs, but he never really pursued it, as his true desire was to be visibly performing.

In their third year of college, they co-wrote a short film, starring Sloan. The project chronicled the life of a man from his early teens until his death in a senior care facility. The film was amazingly popular, as it illustrated his idealism and devotion to God and Country as he left his sweetheart to go off to war. It continued to show the shattered and broken man who returned, plagued by the ghosts of his experiences and the loss of his legs. There followed the downward spiral of a lost and disillusioned shell of a man.

While Sloan's performance was outstanding, Dana's direction, makeup, and editing skills were what garnered the most praise. She was sought after by film studios and production companies, interning at a major studio during the summer before their final year. She was already working professionally before she ever walked across the stage to receive her diploma.

Sloan worked hard, but actors face an uphill struggle on the success track. He continued to audition for parts, take classes, network, bar-tend and wait tables as he struggled to get his big break. When he got discouraged, Dana was always there to support him. Their devotion to each other was unwavering. While Dana's career was steadily rising, Sloan was struggling to get his own off the ground.

Despite the fact that she was their main means of support, Dana never challenged his manhood by throwing it in his face. In fact, she would go out of her way to reinforce the fact that their marriage was a true 21st Century partnership. As equals, they would always be there for each other.
In many cases like this, the male is haunted by feelings of inadequacy. His need to be the breadwinner, the man, the dominant partner would have diminished him in his own eyes. In Sloan's case that was never at issue. He knew his own worth. He was confident in his own skills.

Chapter Three

Still basking in the sexual afterglow, the couple sat at the small second-hand table and ate dinner, smiling shyly at each other as they shared spaghetti and a cheap bottle of Chianti.

"So how did the audition go?" asked Dana.

"I don't know...it was a typical cattle call. Three hundred and fifty guys all reading for the same two parts in a 30 second commercial. Not exactly inspiring."

"Awww baby, you know that all it takes is the right person with the right line at the right moment and everything will fall into place. I have faith in you."

"I guess," was her husband's reply." I just get so sick of hearing the same old shit. You're too short. You're too young. You're too....whatever."

"You just need a break. I know that's a cliché in this town, but that doesn't mean it isn't true."

"I realize that, but I keep busting my ass going to these auditions and parties and stuff just trying to get noticed...."

Dana's face suddenly lit up. "Oh My God, I almost forgot....guess who got invited to a studio party?"

"Let me guess...Donald Trump?"

"SHUT UP!" she giggled, "I got us invited to Matt Sharp's Carnaval party!"

"How did that happen?"

"His PA invited me today. Apparently he and his wife were impressed by my work on Demarcation. Now that principal photography is finished they invited me and my 'significant other/partner' to attend their party"

Chapter Four

Danielle Sharp smiled at her husband's constant pacing as he rattled off instructions to his Personal Assistant. Gabriel struggled to keep up, as the famous director's mind veered into myriad tangents. Although he was focused on the boss, he could not help but feel her gaze upon him as she lounged on the overstuffed sofa in her husband's office.

The tall, dark director had a faintly Italian air. His skin a burnished bronze with dark brown hair that was impeccably cut and styled at all times. He was the quintessential 'man's man', and at six-three, and a firm 210 pounds Matt Sharp radiated fitness and energy. He trained regularly, and it was not unknown for him to halt shooting when he felt it was time for a work out. This was a constant thorn in the sides of Actors, Producers, and Studio Heads alike, but his films always made money. If only they knew what all was involved in a Matt Sharp 'work-out'.

"...and need to be sure that you contact Munich about the new scheduling, also make sure the contracts are ready before you leave tonight."
Gabe made a few notes on his tablet, "Yes Sir, they are already done and on your desk. I verified that your changes to the shooting schedule have been updated, and that wardrobe has been given a heads up about the new revisions."

Matt's grunt and nod were all the thanks the PA was given, as his boss turned abruptly catching his wife's eye. He paused there, taking a moment to drink in the view. Danielle was tall and slender, graceful in an athletic way. Her smooth pale skin glowed and she looked almost regal as she reclined on the sofa. Her lips curled playfully at the corners, but it was the playfulness of a feline with a mouse. The high cheekbones with almond-shaped eyes would have been equally fitting on a runway model, femme fatale, or dominatrix. Indeed, Danielle Sharp was a mixture of all of those things, and at the age of 36, she could still pass for a much younger woman, until you met those eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul, and hers held you in place like an insect on a pin board, revealing her predatory nature.

As the young PA began to leave, her imperious tone halted him in his tracks.

"Did you do as I instructed, Gabby?"

The young man blushed red and trembled, slightly.

"Yes...Mistress"

She rose from her seat and crossed to the two men. Reaching one hand to caress the young intern's cheek, as her other reached around his waist, pulling herself against him as her mouth moved to his ear.

"Good girl" she whispered huskily as her teeth bit down on his earlobe, "You may go...until we send for you."

As the young man hurried out of the office, her husband chuckled.

"My God, woman! You are going to give the poor child a heart attack!"

Her enigmatic smile was the only response as her husband pulled her to him, his mouth claiming hers, passionately. After a few breathless moments, the lovers broke their kiss as Matt looked deeply into his wife's eyes.

"What were these instructions you gave to Gabe?"

"Well darling," she replied, with a child's innocence, "you know our little Gabby-girl is returning to college next month, and I think it is about time we started looking for a new pet."

Matt raised an eyebrow, "..and...?"

Her innocent look took on a predatory gleam "...and, I think I have found the perfect replacements!"

Matt Sharp crossed to his desk and perched himself on the corner with a stern look on his face.

"You said replacements....as in more than one?"

"Did I?" She waved a hand airily.

"I'm waiting." His voice was flat and cold.

"OK. Hear me out," she began, "Do you remember Dana Taylor?"

Chapter Five

Dana was moving through their tiny kitchenette as Sloan was reading his laptop. The coffee was fresh and she poured herself a cup before gathering herself together for another day in Hollyweird.

"So what is your plan for the morning?" she asked.

"There is an audition for a television pilot, and a friend mentioned a casting call for Pasadena Playhouse. I'm not sure I have enough to make both in time for work", he replied. "I caught hell from Randy the last time I was late at the bar."

Although Sloan was a serious actor, he knew that he could not afford to burn any bridges. Hundreds of wannabe movie stars were competing for jobs, as well as roles. His gig at The Anvil, a swanky club along the coast offered good tips, a steady gig, and the opportunity to be seen by people who could make or break his career with a word.

"OK baby...you know I'm your biggest fan and I can't help feeling that something big is coming. Just hang in there."

Sloan smiled, his face glowing as their eyes met. As she bent to kiss him goodbye, she felt his arms encircle her slim waist, his soft lips melting into hers as the kiss took on a heated passion. She shivered as she melted into the embrace, loving the way he held her; his gentleness and his intuitive way of knowing just what she needed.

Her voice was husky as they broke the kiss, "I loved last night, baby."

His smile broadened into a grin. "What part?"

"All of it" she laughed, "but especially the way you held me and caressed me in the afterglow."

They gazed into each other's eyes, tasting the memory, until finally, he broke the tableau.

"I love getting you off. It makes you so....so wild and passionate. It's like watching a flame leaping into life."

"I love you, Sloan. More and more each day."

"I love you, too!"

As Dana hurried to their aging Toyota, she thought back on the previous evening. Sloan made love so gently and yet was so passionately eager to please her that it took her breath away. He had always been a considerate and thoughtful lover, eager to learn any new way to please her, tease her, coax her body until it collapsed in orgasmic bliss. Her panties got a little moist as she reminisced how his tongue would seek out every nerve end, knowing just how to bring her off.

She then thought of the dark days, before they met. A cold, frightening hand gripped her heart as she remembered her step-father and his little 'games'. A feeling of both shame and guilt threatened to overwhelm her as she wondered if Sloan would hate her if he ever learned about her past.

It was something he never asked her about, thank God, and she was glad it never came up. It had taken years for her to put that time behind her, years of hiding from life, years of hiding from her own darkness, and then she met Sloan and learned to trust again.

A vague disquiet haunted her as she tried to bottle the darkness back up inside where it was safely hidden. It was a disquiet that fought against the hunger that those memories sometimes triggered. Ugly thoughts that brought shame down upon her in a torrent of self-loathing, as her psyche struggled to justify the stirrings that she felt. She was still blushing hotly as she pulled into the studio lot.

"She's arriving through the gate now, Mistress", Gabriel spoke softly, lowering his phone and averting his eyes as Danielle's head snapped toward him at the interruption.

"Good. You know what to do."

The young intern nodded as she turned away from him and strode imperiously toward the back lot. Heads turned as she moved gracefully through the hustle and bustle of the studio's daily grind. Her mind was focused on her prey, calculating every nuance of this opening gambit.

Chapter Six

As Dana hurried through the sound stages and past the hustle and bustle of a studio lot, her mind continued to be drawn to that dark little secret that had haunted her for years. She felt that she was betraying Sloan by her body's reaction to the pain, humiliation and degradation of her past. Every time this happened it sent her spiraling into a depression. How could she ever be worthy of Sloan? She was sick, a pervert who became excited at things that disgusted normal people. As she struggled with her demons, she almost collided with Danielle Sharp.

"OH...uhm....sorry Ms. Sharp I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going"

"Dana, it's quite alright" was the cool response. "Is everything alright? You seem a bit flushed"

"Yes, Ma'am. I was thinking about....ummm...the uh...the wardrobe...."

"No problem, dear. In fact, I am glad that I ran into you"

"Actually, I think it was me that ran into you", Dana replied, cracking the beginning of a sheepish smile.

Though her bearing remained cool and sophisticated, Danielle's eyes glimmered with anticipation as the pair stood calmly chatting as a sea of bodies swept by on either side.

Dana met the gaze of the much taller woman and was immediately drowning. Danielle seemed to be discussing color palettes and costuming while Dana struggled to focus. There was a palpable aura of power that emanated from Danielle, a commanding presence that casually assumed that others would bend to her will.

It was well-known throughout the film industry that Matt and Danielle (never Dani) were a power to be reckoned with. She and her husband had formed their own production company after the success of Matt's third film and never looked back. With his reputation and clout, as well as her backroom manipulations, they were among the top players in Hollywood.

Dana suddenly realized that Danielle had stopped talking and her eyes were narrowly focused, a well-known sign that she was angry. Just before Dana could stumble through an apology, they were saved by Matt's PA, Gabriel who appeared very upset.

"Pardon me, Ms. Sharp, but your husband sent me to find you."

Her stormy look was suddenly targeted upon the hapless intern.

"Congratulations" she crossed her arms, "You found me!"

"It seems he wants to shelve the film, maam."

"WHAT???" she exploded.

Gabriel paled and gulped, "I'm sorry Mist....ummm...Ma'am, but the actor that he had planned to cast in the lead has gone into rehab"

Dana could see the young man begin to wither as Ms Sharp's face became a cold mask.

"Please remind me, Gabi" her voice soft and cold as she emphasized the name, "who was it that researched the actor that we cast?"

"I-I-I'm sorry...."

"No my dear pet, but you will be."

She towered over the trembling PA and continued.

"Tell my husband that I will be with him, shortly...", He nodded deferentially and began to hurry away, "...then go and wait for me in the playroom"

Dana could see him shiver at the final words, and could not control a damp tingling between her own thighs as she realized that some of the stories that she had heard about the Sharps just might be true. As she watched Gabriel walk away, she suddenly realized that the woman was pondering her, appraisingly.

Come Dana, I'd like to have a word with you"

She spun on her heel and began walking toward Dana's office, without a glance back as Dana hurried to keep up. Arriving there, she wasted no time in sending Dana's assistant off to fetch coffee and scones. Striding across the office, she perched on Dana's desk, forcing her to take a seat in one of the office chairs, rather than her own.

"Unfortunate" she said cryptically as she looked around the office. "but then one person's misfortune, can be another's salvation."

Dana was unsure how to respond, when suddenly Danielle changed tack.

"You got the invitation?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The party invitation...or does Gabi need a more severe punishment?"

"Ohhhh, that. Yes Ms. Sharp, and thank you both. My husband and I are very excited"

"Husband? I'm a bit confused. I seem to recall seeing you at the Demarcation wrap party with a woman. As I recall, you seemed very much an item."

"A woman?"

"Look Dana, we are all adults here. If you go both ways and want to have a little fun, it's really not my business."

"Yes Ms Sharp....I mean NO....that was my husband, Sloan"

"Really? Interesting....."

"I don't understand...."

At that point, there was a knock and Dana opened the door to find her assistant with a cloth covered tray containing scones and coffee. As soon as the woman had left them, Dana began pouring and serving.

"Tell me Dana, what does Sloan do for a living?"

"He's a very talented actor..."

So began a long cathartic discussion . Danielle was easy to talk to, and within a few minutes Dana was telling her about Sloan, herself, and their life together. The older woman was a very good interviewer, and before she realized it, they had been talking for an hour. Danielle was amazed at the childish innocence of the couple, as well as their vanilla sex life.

It was time to change that.

"Dana, how much do you believe in Sloan?"

"With all my heart and soul."

"I have been watching you for some time. I have a knack for finding the right people for the right....positions" her smile was soft as her eyes danced with Dana's. "I have a brilliant idea, but it hinges on you, my dear."

"What idea?"

"Before I tell you, I must make a few things clear. I am taking what I believe in you and assuming that your own valuation of Sloan is accurate. You have read the script for Soft Kill?"

Dana shook her head, "I was only just included on the project and have yet to read it. It's an action film, right?"

"Somewhat, but it hinges, in fact the whole success of our company hinges, on finding an actor that can play both genders convincingly"

"Both genders?"

"Actually Dana, even more than that. You see, this film is about a contract assassin who is transgendered"

"You mean a gay man who likes to dress up like a woman?"

Danielle laughed, "Oh my dear, you are such an innocent. There are probably hundreds of degrees of sexuality and sexual identity. The character in our film has been struggling with sexual identity all his life. He was physically abused by his father, who tried to beat him into being a man. Along the way, he learned to suppress his emotions. He became a chameleon, sliding beneath the radar, never allowing anyone to see his soul. He found the perfect outlet as a young man, murdering a school bully by disguising himself as a girl and luring him into an alley for a blowjob. From that moment, he knew his destiny. He is a killer for hire, but his male persona is meek and submissive, while his female persona is strong, tough as nails, and ruthless."

"Wow", said Dana.

"Wow, indeed...and quite the challenge, but without the right actor it could become a disaster."

"So, if you lost your lead, what are you planning to do?"

"I have seen your husband, but I will ask you again, how good an actor is Sloan?"

Her eyes widened with understanding as Danielle Sharp smiled.

"Do you think Mr. Sharp would let Sloan audition?"

"Definitely not...at least not without a LOT of preparation. If I mentioned to Matt that I wanted him to audition a nobody, he would shit-can the whole project, but if he met someone that he was sure was a woman and learned the woman was...shall we say...unique...he just might. You see, my husband has made his career by acting on his own instincts. He would be prejudiced against anyone he didn't bring to the table himself."

"But how do we get Mr. Sharp to 'discover' Sloan?"

"Tell me Dana, what are you and Sloan planning to wear to our party?"

Chapter Seven

Dana's mind was a maelstrom of battling thoughts. Sloan as a woman? Could she do that to her own husband? How could she even talk to him about it; and what about the other things that Ms. Sharp had hinted at? There was definitely a weirdness about her and her husband's relationship with Gabriel.

As all of these thoughts warred in Dana's mind, her husband was covering the bar at 'The ANVIL'. Sloan actually liked tending bar. He enjoyed the give and take with his customers, as well as the staff. There was a rarefied atmosphere to the place, as Hollywood's 'big-timers' would come in during the day to take a meeting, pitch a story, or close a deal. Later the 'unwinders' would stop by for a couple of drinks and to swap a few stories before fighting the traffic. Finally, you had the 'party crowd' who came to see and to be seen. It was a fascinating way to observe characters and try to assimilate them into his repertoire...and who knows, maybe one of those big-timers would spot him and open the door?

Toni, one of the cocktail waitresses, came by during a lull and interrupted his people-watching.

"How did it go today?"

He frowned, "I don't know, Toni. The director had me in and out of the room in under 30 seconds. Not a good sign."

"Well, you know what they say, Sloan... you just gotta keep putting yourself out there....", her voice trailed off.

"I suppose, but I feel like I'm doing something wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't put my finger on what it is, but I feel like I'm auditioning for the wrong roles...which is ridiculous because I audition for everything"

"Maybe you should start auditioning for the women's roles", she laughed.

"Very funny"

"Well, the word is out that Matt Sharp is looking for an actor that can play both a male and a female in his new film."

"Well, at the rate I'm going, I'd try anything."

"Just watch your ass, Sloan. I hear the Sharps use the casting couch", Toni giggled as she turned to deal with a couple of her tables.

Sloan idly watched her as she walked back across the room, but his mind was years away.

-Sloan always loved to perform. He just seemed to delight in making people smile. As the baby of the family, he had two older sisters that he loved dearly. They told him stories at bedtime, helped him with his homework, taught him how to dance, and played with him when he was bored.

As hard as he tried, he could not remember the first time they had played dress-up together, but he definitely remembered the last time. He and his sisters were playing Rock Legends on a game console. Cassie, the oldest, was singing and he and Julie were rocking out with their jewelry rattling as they twanged the little plastic guitars. Sloan was decked out in a micro mini skirt with a fuzzy vest over a yellow camisole. His hair was teased like an 80s rocker, and his eyes were rimmed in black from the heavy makeup. His fingers, lips, and toes all shone with a glossy deep red and he was having so much fun.

As they each took a turn singing, Cassie grabbed her camera and took some pictures of each of them together as well as individually. When it was time for dinner, his mother looked a little worried at her giggling, feminized, 10 year old son and sent all three of them off to get cleaned up for dinner.

After the meal, while they were all still at the table, his father casually asked them what they had done all day. Sloan happily shared the entire story without reservation. He was confused by his father's puzzled expression, but that gave way to worry as the puzzlement turned to anger.

His father sent the three of them to bed, and from his room, Sloan could hear the raised voices from downstairs. After a few minutes, his father came into his room and sat on the bed.

"Son, I know you were just playing around with your sisters, but there are some things you need to know about boys and girls..."

The talk that followed was confusing and left him feeling sad and ashamed. Somehow, he had disappointed his parents, and he had done a bad thing. He was never sure what was bad about playing dress-up since his sisters did it all the time, but apparently it was a bad thing for Sloan to do.

Sloan never played dress-up with his sisters again, but a year later he was performing in plays and suddenly it was OK to dress up and pretend to be someone else.

Chapter Eight

Gabriel could sense her as she paced around him. Mistress was uncanny in her ability to read people. She had a sixth sense for knowing what you really needed, even if you did not. Her eyes could measure and weigh you almost at a glance. If Mistress spoke to you for five minutes she could have you pouring out your soul. Within an hour, she could plumb the depths of your darkest secrets. Give her a single evening in the playroom and she could reveal things to you, the kind of things that can terrify, torment, tantalize and titillate you, making you beg for release.

A low moan issued unwillingly from his lips as her strap made a soft "whoosh" of air parting, but no blow landed. It was a game she loved. The sound of the strap alerting him of its motion just before the wet slap of leather on flesh. It kept him squirming in anticipation, never knowing which one would actually paint his ass with a new stripe. He was bound bent across a table, wrists stretching him forward and feet secure on the floor, or as secure as the 4-inch heels allowed. With a hood over his head, and a ball gag in his mouth, his only options were a few inches of 'squirm room', and an occasional moan. He supposed that he also had the option to remain motionless and silent, but these were highly unreasonable expectations.

Matt watched in appreciation, as his wife toyed with their pet. She was still dressed in her office clothes, unwilling to change. It really made no matter, as she was so obviously dominant that she could have worn a pink tutu and still commanded the aura of a leather clad Dominatrix. Clothes might help create an atmosphere, an ambiance if you will, but in Danielle Sharp's case, they were only window dressing. Danielle took her position seriously and crafted each D/s scene with the care and forethought that her husband put into a film scene.

And this scene was special, as they were saying goodbye to a loved one.

This is not to say that Gabi-Girl was not dressed for the part. In the case of a submissive, the ambiance could make or break a scene. Gabi was dressed in open-toed slingback heels, fishnet stockings, and a lacy garter belt. She had been wearing a sexy maid's outfit with black thong and leather cincher, but now the dress was gone and Danielle was becoming more serious as the moments passed.

"Stop moaning you little slut. I have not even finished warming you up yet!" she rolled the strap caressingly down his shoulder, along his back, and across his reddened ass.

Matt grinned as his wife continued to play with Gabi, tormenting the young feminized man's body from all angles. His moans of pain and pleasure heightening the tension for all three of them as she played Gabi like a virtuoso. After almost an hour of exquisite agony, Matt was ready to participate.

Gabi was now breathing raggedly, as each time Danielle teased his erection to the verge of release she used ice to stave him off. His moans were becoming increasingly pathetic as he was denied release by his Mistress. She continued her pacing, but by this time had lost her skirt and blouse. She looked magnificent as she stalked around the whimpering pet wearing nothing but a black lace bra and matching panties.

As Gabi knelt on the floor facing Matt, beads of perspiration dotting his flesh, she removed his hood and ball gag. Danielle stood behind the kneeling toy and her eyes met her husband's across the red-streaked back. Matt nodded toward her and she spoke again.

"Who are you?"

"I am Gabi"

"Why are you called Gabi?"

"My Mistress and Master chose my name, for which I will be always grateful."

"Why do you serve?"

"Serving fulfills me, Mistress"

"What will you do for your Mistress and Master to prove your worth?"

"Whatever they ask of me, Mistress"

"Go to your Master and show him how willing you are to serve him."

Gabi crawled to Matt and looked at him with adoration in his eyes. Tears stained his cheeks as he waited for permission to speak.

"Why does my slave weep like a little girl?"

"Master, your slave wishes to stay with her Master and Mistress. Your slave does not wish to leave you."

"We have already discussed this, and it must be so. You have a lifetime ahead of you, Gabi. You must grow as a person, and if it is meant to be, we will be rejoined.", Matt gently stroked the young man's cheek. "You may serve me, sweet Gabriella"

Gabi quickly unzipped Matt's slacks and drew forth his growing cock, pressing his cheek to it as he nuzzled it affectionately. Meanwhile, Danielle went to a side table and began strapping on a black, slender dildo. She then went to the ice bucket and grabbed a handful of cubes before returning to the kneeling slave boy/girl. By this time, Gabi had the end of Matt's cock between her full lips and was lavishly stroking the crown with her tongue while gently sucking on the tip, her eyes never leaving her Master's.

Gabriella's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Before meeting Matt and Daniele, she had never expressed the least bit of femininity. Gabriel had considered himself a normal heterosexual male. The older couple had opened his eyes to a hidden world. A world where life made sense. As Gabi, she felt free in a way she never had as a man. The powerful emotions from sucking on a cock triggered responses that overwhelmed her. She knew she had no real desire to be female, but felt fulfilled in the traditional female role.

The symbolism of roles was one of the things that Master and Mistress had taught Gabi. It was not so much a feminine vs. masculine thing as much as a Dominant vs. submissive thing. In the world Gabriel grew up in, no real man would suck another man's cock. On the other hand, as a submissive it was expected. Feminization served to overcome the ingrained societal programming and allow Gabi to express herself as a submissive without the anguish of all the societal pressure that tried to pigeonhole human sexuality into a rigid male/female box.

As Gabi worshiped her Master's hard cock, she felt her Mistress begin rubbing ice on the red welts that marred her back and ass. She struggled to take him deeper, as Mistress began lubing her asshole. This was the part that Gabi loved best. She loved it when she was able to please them both at once. Her moan was one of joy as she felt Mistress begin sliding her strappy into the lubed asshole.

As they slowly began fucking their slave, they got into a rhythm that had Gabi eagerly bouncing from one to the other. As she gazed lovingly into her Master's face, slow tears gently slid down her cheeks.

How she would miss them.

Chapter Nine

As Dana worked through the day, she was continually distracted by the events of the morning. The dark things that terrified and yet were so exciting to her had been suppressed time and again, only to resurface in her moments of weakness. Why was she continually haunted by these shadows that constantly nagged at the edges of her consciousness? It was the dream, that same disgusting dream that she could not control. The dream that had recurred again and again since she was twelve or thirteen.

Dana was not stupid. She realized that many things that happened, in reality, were suppressed by the psyche and resolved themselves as dreams and fantasies. So was this recurring sexual dream/fantasy/nightmare a real event that a younger Dana had been unable to cope with? Is it possible that the dream was real? The possibility was scary. If the dream started when she was around twelve, how long had it been buried inside her before puberty forced it out into the light? She vividly recalled the event that the dream related to, but her memory of the event ended before the dream began.

The Event

-She and Billie were walking home from school. It was 5th grade and they had spent too much time goofing around with their friends before walking home. Normally, they took David Avenue all the way to Lighthouse and turned right up Lighthouse to home. The streets were lined with sidewalks and businesses all the way home.

Because they were running late, they decided to cut through Forest Park. There was a narrow trail through the woods that came out just behind the Safeway store and would save them a lot of time. The only downside was the woods. They were dark and scary. the two young girls were putting up a brave front and Dana kept goading Billie in hopes that she would back down and they would just get in trouble for being late without losing face by backing down.

As the two girls got deeper into the woods, they moved closer together and jumped at every rustling sound. With wide eyes, Dana saw shadows moving between the trees. She wanted to turn back but was afraid that it would be farther than going forward. By now, the two girls were clinging together when four whooping older boys burst out around them and grabbed them by their arms. The girls screamed but the boys clapped hands over their mouths as voices threatened them with dire consequences, both physical and sexual, if they didn't shut up.

They took them to a clearing with a large fallen tree trunk in the center. Dana was petrified by fear as one boy held her arms tight to her sides and another tormented her with sick and twisted things that he was planning to do to her. She could see Billie being similarly restrained and taunted. The boys were much older, maybe high school or college age. Their eyes were scary as they began to count in unison. On the count of three, each boy lunged forward and grabbed the boy holding them whilst screaming for them to run for their lives. She could still hear the laughter following them.

The girls cried all the way home, Billie turning a block before Dana's house. Her mother was in the kitchen and called out to her about something mundane, but Dana rushed to the bathroom. Why go to the bathroom? It seemed as if she should have run to her bedroom for safety and comfort. Her bedroom was her refuge. No. It was definitely the bathroom. How long was she in there? She remembered her mom knocking at the door and her calling out from the shower that she was okay and would be right out. Why was she in the shower?

In retrospect, Dana recalled very little of the rest of her fifth-grade school year. Whatever became of Billie? Did they ever mention the incident again? All she was sure of was that her family moved that summer to a new city.-

So, what really happened that afternoon in fifth grade? Had it just been a group of boys pulling some sick prank on a couple of school girls? Did the boys do more? How much more could they have done without making her late? Her mother would definitely have confronted her if she had been late getting home. It was troubling, but what troubled her the most was that it might have been, in some way, responsible for what her stepfather had done to her. Can perversion be transmitted by physical contact, like a virus?

As Dana shook off these thoughts, she began thinking of Danielle Sharp's revelations. There was something more there that she could feel, like a magnetism. Danielle was a dominating force that seemed to tug at Dana in an almost sexual way. Dana had never experimented with other girls, despite having several opportunities. Before Sloan, she was much too afraid. After Sloan, she just wasn't interested. So why was she so drawn to Danielle?

She came to Danielle's veiled suggestion about Sloan. Would it work? Sloan was a remarkably talented actor. She was not thinking that in an obligatory way. He truly was a remarkably talented actor. He poured himself into his roles and was mesmerizing in any part he played. This was both a blessing and a curse in his career. It made him unsuitable for smaller roles, where he might draw focus from a lead. It also made him less suitable for larger parts where his lack of name relegated him to stumbling in purgatory in the hope that some director would be willing to take a risk on him.

Let's face it, Hollywood was not about breaking ranks and taking risks. Millions of dollars were at stake in even the smaller, indie films. The studio blockbusters could run hundreds of millions. That is why Hollywood marched in lock-step following trends and demographics and jumping on the coattails of any film that had success. Because of this, Sloan was chasing a dream that was as substantial as a feather in a hurricane. The odds were stacked against him by a system that denied talent and worshiped mediocrity. Box office sells films.

That is not to say that there were no exceptions. After all, someone had to create a trend for Hollywood to follow. Matt Sharp was one of those exceptions. Directors who had so much success that studios and backers were thrilled to throw money at anything he was attached to. This would remain until a chink was found. The moment his films stopped making money, he would become a pariah. It was like riding a tiger, you grab hold of the tail and try not to get eaten along the way.

Matt and Danielle were great at it....so far.

Chapter Ten

Sloan was setting the table as Dana got home. On the drive back, while fighting the LA traffic, Dana had debated how to broach the subject of Danielle's idea about surprising Matt by pretending to be a woman at the Carnaval party. She had finally decided that the best way to convince Sloan would be to appeal to him as an actor. Sloan was rightly proud of his ability to play any role. His ego would never back down from a challenge like this, especially if the reward might be a starring role in Matt Sharp's latest blockbuster.

"Hi baby, I'm home! Wow it smells delicious.", she called out as she placed her bags on the floor.

"It's almost ready" came the reply, "How was your day?"

Sloan stepped out of the kitchenette and saw the bags. "Did you go shopping?"

"No sweety I just brought some things home from work."

He nodded and went back into dinner. As he began pouring pasta through a colander, his wife moved up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek and breasts into his back. He paused, allowing her to hold him.

"Long day?", he asked.

"Weird day" was the cryptic reply. "Need any help?"

"You could toss the salad if you like."

Dana took out some romaine with assorted veggies and began tossing a salad while Sloan finished the pasta and began placing dinner on the table. Soon they were eating the meal, and the conversation stayed casual as Dana occasionally took notice of her husband. It was true that Sloan was not the stereotypical macho stud, but she had never before considered how soft and feminine he was. That is not to say that he was swishy or effeminate, but there was a feminine grace to the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he related to her as a human being that she had never consciously noticed before.

Dana was in the movie industry. Moreover, she was in the make-up and special effects part of the industry. Most of the men she met within her department were gay. Many were flamboyantly effeminate. That was most definitely not her husband. He was gentle, kind, thoughtful and considerate. She had just never realized that these were all considered to be feminine traits. The only thing that separated him from women was the lack of breasts and the eight-inch package he sported between the legs. Everything else was feminine...his face, eyes, lips, height, hair all screamed female to her. It was quite a shocking revelation. She had never noticed it before. Could it be possible that neither had Sloan? What would happen if Sloan ever began to see himself through her eyes?

She started abruptly, as she realized that Sloan had asked her something.

"...I'm sorry sweety, I was just kinda woolgathering. What did you ask?"

He smiled, gently. "I asked what weird means"

Dana took a few moments to scramble her thoughts back into some semblance of order. "weird?"

"You said you had a weird day."

"OHHHH....that" she giggled, "I apologize for losing my mind. I guess it started this morning with Danielle Sharp talking to me about the party, as well as her husband's new film"

"I heard about the film. Lotsa buzz from the buzzards about it"

'The buzzards' was Sloan's nickname for the Hollywood shakers, hangers-on, and wannabes that he met at The Anvil. They were always buzzing about some movie gossip, hence the name.

"What were they saying?"

"Something about a gay hit man that dresses in drag and assassinates people."

"Hmmmm. I think, from what she told me, that it goes a lot deeper than that. The character in the film is very complex and struggles with a gender identity issue. He is actually trans-gendered and has had to suppress his identity to survive."

"Trangendered....you mean like those lumberjacks on Jerry Springer that claim they are women in a man's body?"

"Kinda like that, but this man actually makes a convincing woman. He is like one of those comic book superheroes that have a meek and mild male identity, but a strong and powerful female identity. That is what makes him so successful as an assassin. Nobody realizes that he isn't a woman. Totally feminine to the nth degree."

"Sounds like a huge challenge."

"Apparently Mr. Sharp is considering shelving the script. The star just went into rehab."

Sloan looked thoughtful. "Can't they get someone else?"

"Well, I suppose it's possible, but how many big action stars are willing to risk their image playing a gender-bending assassin?"

"So? He should find himself a new actor. I would kill for a chance to play it"

"Would you, really? Think about it from his point of view. He needs an actor who could commit and not balk at the masculinity issues. He would also have to be extremely talented. Finally, Matt and Danielle would need to be convinced, I mean totally convinced, that the actor could do it. After all, they would be risking their reputations, as well as a hundred million dollars of investor capital. If the actor couldn't hack it, they could lose everything."

She let the idea hang there for a few minutes before adding, "She also asked what we will be wearing to the party"

Sloan looked confused as she changed tack. "What party?"

"Their party, you silly goose" she giggled, "you know...Carnaval...costumes...mystery"

"Oh." he seemed non-plussed as his mind was still focused on the film role.

"Danielle had a few suggestions" was the casual reply.

"What kind of suggestions?"

"She remembers meeting you at the wrap party for Demarcation....remember?"

"yeah"

"She asked me if I was bringing my lesbian lover."

"WHAT????" he spluttered.

"I told her I was bringing my husband. When she seemed surprised that I was married, I explained that she had met you at the wrap party. She was amazed to find out that you were a man."

"Thanks for boosting my image", was Sloan's sarcastic reply.

"Baby. She asked me if you are truly a gifted actor. When I reassured her that you are, she made a very interesting proposal. She said if you can play a female so well without trying to, maybe you could be more convincing if you truly try. She suggested that if you came to the party en-femme, and were introduced to her husband as a woman, he could quite possibly be convinced that you could play the role."

"Are you kidding?"

"Baby, this could be that big break you keep talking about."

Sloan's eyes went from excited to a bland opacity as he realized the task she was suggesting. He had suppressed any desire to cross-dress as a young man. The idea was exciting but terrifying. What would Dana see? Could she still love him if he appeared to be less than a man?

"What's wrong, baby?" Dana asked at his expression.

"I'm afraid that it would be too difficult to do....maybe it isn't a good idea...I don't know if I can....." his voice trailed off.

"Sloan Taylor, you are the most talented actor I have ever seen. You can do this. I know it !!!!"

"I....I'm not so sure..."

"If I can make you look like an eighty-five-year-old, one-armed Vietnam veteran, I can make you look like a red-hot babe. You just have to believe in me as much as I believe in you."

"You think so?"

"Let me show you. Just go to the bedroom and strip while I grab the bags."

Chapter Eleven

Sloan's heart was beating like a trip-hammer. He stared at the face in the mirror with amazement. The woman that gazed back at him was gorgeous. He raised his hand to his cheek and was actually surprised when raised a manicured hand that perfectly matched his motion. Dana had outdone herself. She had brought in her 'tool-box' filled with cosmetics and other paraphernalia. She had also brought in several costumes, lingerie, and jewelry to add to the illusion. His only question was, how much of this is due to Dana's skill, and how much is just Sloan?

He was wearing a gold and white evening gown with spaghetti straps and actual cleavage. The last was thanks to a pair of breast forms that were so well matched to his skin that he could not see the line where the form left off and his skin began. They even had nipples that stood out against the soft velvety texture of the gown. From his ears dangled a pair of segmented gold earrings with pearl drops. His eyes were accented into an almond shape that gave his appearance a subtle Asian flavor. His glossy red lips were full and lush. Dana had plaited his hair so that it crowned his head, making his neck look longer and more slender.

The feelings that welled up within him rose like a tidal wave, and a gasping shudder drove tears from his eyes. He saw himself, as a little boy, saw the pure joy of being in costume as his sister's made him over. He cried for that little boy, whose life was shattered when his father had told him that he must never dress up like this again. He also cried for fear of Dana's reaction, of not being the man his wife had thought she had married. Despite her part in this, there was a lingering fear that she was unmasking him for the purpose of rejecting him.

Sloan met his wife's eyes in the mirror. "Am I....am I a...a freak?"

Her eyes went from wonder, at the vision she saw revealed in the mirror, to concern for the man she loved. "Oh My God Sloan, how could you ever think that?"

"I just feel like....I don't know....like less than a man."

Dana placed her chin on his right shoulder so that they faced the mirror cheek to cheek. "I love you, Sloan. More than life itself, I love YOU."

"But....Look at me...."

"Look at you? Baby, I can't take my eyes off of you"

She turned his head to hers and met his glossy red lips with her own, the taste and feel of their lipstick adding a sensuous element to the kiss that began softly, tenderly, but gained in fervor as his lips parted and their tongues began to thrust and parry. She slid her hands down Sloan's arms, tracing the exposed flesh, raising goosebumps on his skin.

When the kiss finally broke, breathlessly, Dana pulled her husband to his feet and led him to the bed. There she undressed him until she left him standing in nothing but his lingerie. He stood, unsure of himself, in nothing but gold sling-back heels, a lacy black pair of french-cut panties, and the matching half bra. His hands were crossing his chest like a virgin bride on her wedding night.

The vision filled Dana with a sexual hunger that she had never known. She wanted Sloan, not as her husband, but as a woman. She quickly removed her own blouse and skirt. She then slid back up the bed, parting her legs, hunger burning in her eyes.

"Come to me, my sweet Sloan."

Despite his inner turmoil, Sloan responded to her need. All other considerations went out the window as he began to move up the bed, reaching for his growing erection.

"No baby" she whispered, huskily, "Make love to me like a woman. Be my woman. My lesbian lover."

Sloan was astonished by her words but began tracing his tongue up from Dana's knees along her inner thighs. He could smell the heady musk of her arousal, see the moisture glistening where her panties touched her labia. She opened herself to him, spreading her legs wider. He felt the heat of her sex long before he ever got close to it. She moaned as he bit her inner thigh just inches away from it, sending a shudder through her body and making her squirm. As he licked and nibbled his way closer, almost touching her vaginal lips, he stopped and began working the inside of her other thigh, causing her to moan again, this time in frustration.

By the time he was close, again, to her squishy nether bits, he gently bit her labial lips and tugged and chewed on them, making her cum a second time. As she came down from this one, she felt him forcing her legs together as he removed her panties. As soon as the soaked garment was tossed aside he renewed his assault on her vagina. She pulled her own knees apart, spreading herself open for his wonderful tongue. He teased the rosebud of her ass with the tip of his tongue, then drew it upward along the perineum to her soaking snatch. As he entered her, he widened his tongue, lapping deep inside her like a dog worrying a bone, while the bridge of his nose ground again and again into her clitoris, making her scream.

Knowing she was tender he backed off to let her catch her breath and slid up along her body, licking and kissing her perspiration-dampened flesh and pausing to tease her belly button with his tongue while his fingers twisted and pinched her nipples. As he worked his mouth up to her breasts, she pulled him up to her mouth and met him with hot kisses. She loved the taste of herself on Sloan's face, mouth and tongue. As they lay in each other's arms she wrapped her fingers around his swollen cock, stroking him.

"I don't think lesbian's have those," He whispered.

"That's what makes you so special to me" she replied with a pixie grin, before sliding down his body.

This time, it was her turn to make him feel good. She teased his nipples, knowing that he couldn't actually feel it, but loving the way it made her feel. Despite the lack of feeling, Sloan enjoyed it, momentarily wishing they could be real and give him the pleasure she got from her own. She worked her way down his abs to tease his belly button, then lower to his hard cock.

Seeing the precum leaking from the tip, she laved it with her tongue, tasting him. Wrapping both tiny hands around the shaft, she opened her lips and engulfed the head as she slowly stroked him, savoring the taste. Bobbing her head, she took him deeper with each stroke, her tongue massaging the vein under his shaft, reveling in the velvety soft hardness of this living organ. She heard him moan as he struggled not to grab her by the hair and force feed his cock down her sweet throat. Part of her wanted him to. That ugly and perverse part of her wanted him to face fuck her into submission.

Sloan was struggling to control himself. His hands were knotted in the bedding as he fought the impulse to grab her head and skull-fuck her sweet mouth. His head began tossing his hair from side to side as he felt her throat open and engulf him fully, her throat massaging his shaft as she made a deep humming noise that vibrated along his cock until he could no longer hold back.

His cum burst out in a geyser that quickly overcame Dana's ability to swallow. As a wave of semen dripped down her chin, she reached for Sloan's hand and pulled him to her. He sat up, bending to gaze down and meeting her twinkling eyes, as her mouth continued to milk his seed from the withering phallus. As soon as she let it slip from her mouth, eyes never leaving his, she rose to him, planting her lips on his. Her mouth and tongue insistently parted his lips and he tasted his own cum as she passed a generous amount from her own mouth to his. He barely hesitated, as their eyes locked meaningfully, and when she pulled back from the kiss, he licked her face clean.

Later, as they held each other, she felt Sloan drift off into sleep

"Wow," Dana whispered in wonder as she gazed down at her husband.

That night, the dream came again. It followed much the usual pattern. Sometimes the smaller details differed, but the main story never deviated far.

- One-Two-Three!

The boy lunged at her, his face kissing her as his hands grabbed her firm breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. She heard Billie running away and screaming as Dana was pulled over to the fallen tree. They wasted no time in stripping her and tied her across the tree. She could feel the rough bark biting into her naked flesh. Dana cried for her mother. She begged them to let her go. They ignored her pleas and taunted her, calling her a slut and a whore.

Her mind pulled back and she was actually watching the events unfold. It was strange because this was not a ten-year-old Dana, but a fully grown Dana. She watched as the first man took her, painfully thrusting his hard cock into her from behind. He grabbed her hair and pulled, arching her back as another one forced his hard cock between her lips and down her throat. As the two men pounded her from both ends, one of the others took a wood switch and started swatting her on the back and across her ass, while the last man did the same to her nipples.

The rape seemed to go on for hours as they took turns with her, but the worst part of it was the absolute pleasure she took from it. She was the whore slut that they called her. She deserved the abuse, wanted it even. When they were done with her, they left her tied there. She heard people passing by, but she was afraid to call out. She was afraid that they would see that she was nothing. A slut. A whore.

At one point a dog came up behind her. She whimpered as it sniffed at her oozing sex. She heard a man call out for the dog, and the animal left her there.

Finally, she passed out.

When she awoke she was in pain. Her whole body was shivering and she was naked and bruised. She found her clothes in a pile nearby and slowly managed to dress. She ran home, tears streaming from her eyes. Her mother was in the kitchen and called out to her about something mundane, but Dana rushed to the bathroom. -

Chapter Twelve

Brandin Jessup was royally pissed. Pacing around his luxurious suite at The Teale Centre, you would never know he was in drug rehab. The Teale Centre was the place to go if you were a Hollywood celeb in need of top medical treatment, a quick pick me up, a quiet place to relax, or a weekend getaway without the paparazzi. The best part of it was, you could spin the publicity any way you needed, as this place was all about service....at a price.

The object of Brandin's outburst was a soft-spoken, nondescript man in a light business suit. Thomas Dern was the antithesis of a Hollywood agent. He never hustled. He never swore, smoked, drank, or gambled. in fact, Thomas Dern was known throughout the trade as 'The Mormon'. A moniker that, while it was not actually true, fit the image that he projected.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Brandin. You should have honored the contract. Getting into a pissing contest with Matt Sharp was moronic."

"Hey asshole, you work for me. Who are you calling a moron?" Brandin screamed.

Thomas locked eyes with his young client and softly but clearly enunciated his reply. "If the shoe fits..."

Brandin tried to hold his agent's gaze, but crumbled and flopped back into a chair. "FUCK! Now, what do I do?"

"The way I see it, you have limited options. You signed a contract to star in a film. You violated said contract by going into drug rehab. I seriously doubt that it would help to announce that you were only pretending as a ploy to stall the picture and squeeze a better contract out of the Sharps."

"Hey, why not? It's not like they've signed another actor to play the part. Why can't we announce that I'm all better?"

Thomas Dern's sigh was that of a patient tutor who has suddenly realized that his pupil will never be able to figure out simple arithmetic. "Let me see if I have this straight. You want to go public and say that you falsified a urine and blood screening in order to extort millions of dollars from Matt and Danielle Sharp."

His disgust was not feigned, "You do realize that jail is not nearly as nice as this place, right?"

Brandin looked crestfallen. There had to be a way to get out of this mess. He was Brandin Jessup. He made millions of dollars and was always in the news.

Sure, he had a reputation as a bad boy, but that was all part of his image. He had already been arrested twice on drug-related charges. The first one had been when the police had responded to reports of a naked woman screaming for help from the balcony of his condo. They had found the girl in tears and stoned out of her mind. They had found Brandin nestled between two other naked young ladies. They had also found a wide variety of pharmaceutical and recreational drugs in plain sight.

That episode had earned him a one-year probation with mandatory drug counseling.

Six months later he sideswiped a California Highway Patrol car as the officer was clearing an accident scene. His Lamborghini continued down the road almost 100 yards before coming to rest against a guardrail. By the time the officer reached the car, he was passed out. While Brandin only had vague memories of the evening, his candidly unflattering arrest photos (taken by a photographer with a police scanner that just happened to be nearby) went viral. The judge immediately revoked his probation, and a lot of money had to change hands in order to keep him out of jail. He ended up with a two-year probation, a hefty fine, damages, and 100 hours of community service.

Characteristically (for Hollywood), it only added to his popularity and he was very much in-demand. His agent had found out that Matt and Danielle Sharp had purchased the rights to Soft Kill, a screenplay by one of the industry's hottest screenwriters. The lead role was a challenging character that would put Brandin on the map as a serious actor, rather than just a leading man. It was the kind of role that could transition him from heartthrob to serious adult star. While Brandin was concerned about what the part might do to his image, he was smart enough to realize that Thomas Dern was right. At thirty-one, he had to cross over into serious dramatic roles, or his career might derail.

"OK Thomas, I get it. I was a moron. So how do we fix it?"

The agent maintained his composition while smiling inwardly. Brandin Jessup was a better than average actor who had been skating through life. While he was no better than hundreds of Hollywood hopefuls, he had one huge advantage. He was already a star, which added to the marketability of any project he was attached to. This would gain him the opportunity to hone his craft and develop into a major star well into the future....provided he didn't keep ruining it by being stupid.

"I think we have no choice but to sue."

"How? I thought you said we were in breach of contract?"

"Oh, we are in breach, and they have the power to drop us from the project."

"Then how do we sue?"

Thomas Dern had made a lot of money in this town. He knew the risks that he would be taking with the Sharps. He also knew that they were deeply invested in this project, and needed to get it up and shooting in a hurry. Even though they were riding a wave of success, a single disaster could wipe them out. This city could break you in a heartbeat.

The trick would be to convince them that it would be less costly to bend than it would for him to try fighting the long battle that Thomas Dern could put them through. He also knew that his client would have to make major concessions just to get back in. It was going to cost them both on this picture, but Thomas Dern was in for the long haul. he could take a short-term loss to reap a larger harvest down the road. He was banking on the belief that the Sharps could not afford to take the same risk.

"Here is what we are going to do...."

Chapter Thirteen

"This feels weird."

"Jack Lemmon, Dustin Hoffman, and Robin Williams were able to handle it. I think you will do fine."

"But I don't understand why I need to go out like this. You can just bring what I need and I can practice at home."

Dana stopped, folded her arms, and looked at her husband. Sloan was wearing a pair of very short, cuffed, tangerine shorts that showed his long legs off to good effect. He also wore a tie-dyed shorty T-shirt that gave glimpses of his waist. His fingers and toes were a glossy orange/cream that matched his shorts. The contrast with his pale lipgloss and the soft highlights in his long, straight blonde hair gave him a very retro 'surfer'girl' look that suited his body's boyish lines.

She had strategically padded his butt, and though the breast forms barely gave him a C-cup, the light sports bra emphasized the realistic nipples. His ears had been pierced since college, so he sported multi-colored glass dangle earrings that caught and reflected the sunlight. A puka shell necklace and matching bracelet added to the effect while a gold ankle chain and strappy sandals with a denim hobo bag completed the ensemble.

"Baby, you of all people should realize the necessity. How can you convince someone who has met you, and has known you as a man that you are a woman if you can't even convince a stranger? You are the one that constantly goes on about 'getting into' a role. I don't understand your reluctance."

Sloan blushed as she turned his words back on him. In truth, he was so excited about being able to dress up that he had been forced to relieve himself in the bathroom just to get the gaffe and panties on. Reluctance was not really the issue, it was more the image of reluctance that concerned him. He had a sudden realization that this was a lie. He was intentionally trying to deceive his wife. They had always been honest with each other. Always.

He almost told her the truth, but a part of him held back. Several times he tried to speak, lips forming around words, but the words just would not come out. His wife, not realizing the true issue, was becoming frustrated at his hesitancy.

"Really Sloan, do you want this part, or are you satisfied with tending bar for the rest of your life? I'm beginning to wonder."

He struggled to keep the pain from showing. How could she think such a thing? Dana was usually very supportive and was rarely pushy. Was it possible that she had another motive?

His mind flashed back to their lovemaking the previous night. Dana had been very excited at her new 'lesbian' lover. Sloan had gotten totally into the fantasy and was ashamed at how much he enjoyed it. Now he was becoming confused about their little game. Could this be a veiled message about his lack of manliness? Was it possible that she did not find him adequate as a man? Was there more to her motivation than his career?

Sloan had always struggled with his lack of classic masculinity. He knew he had a somewhat androgynous appearance. After all, he had heard it repeated enough times while growing up. He also had those feelings that he had been forced to hide since he was a child. He knew he was not gay. In many ways, he almost wished he had been. At least, if he were gay, he would have had a center, a place where he knew he fit in, a self-image that reflected the image that he projected to others.

Instead, he had often struggled with self-identity. The image that he projected was always a role, a part that could be worn as a disguise. Dana had been the first person to embrace him as he was without placing him into a role. She chose him. She accepted him. She loved him. He had allowed her to see into his heart, and apart from that one tiny, dark, hidden nook, he had opened himself to her.

Sloan felt as if there had been a paradigm shift in his world, especially in his marriage. It was like he had been skating along on a frozen lake and suddenly felt the ice crackling under his feet. Wherein did safety lie? Events seemed to be overtaking him, and he didn't know what to do about it.

like most people, he went to his default setting, relying on his training to guide him. He was an actor. He needed to embrace the role, as he had always done. Acting had always been his lifeline, so he clung to it.

"You're right. I guess I just got caught up in the social dogma and lost sight of my goal. I'm in your hands, Obi-Wan"

His remark brought an entire change in her demeanor as Dana stifled a giggle. Her smile lighting up her face. She used an affected Yoda voice, "Help you, I can. Trust me, you must. Yesss"

They both began to laugh and it was as if a cloud had been lifted from their relationship as they held hands and walked along the boardwalk, watching the seagulls soar, the surfers surf, the skaters skate, and the families frolic.

"OK, girlfriend. Just hang with me. We are going to have so much fun."

As they moved along, Dana started pointing out things for Sloan. It began with innocuous comments about what that person was wearing, or how that outfit was all wrong, or what color top would be better with that skirt. Sloan had always had an eye for detail, and he began to realize that Dana was giving him a glimpse of 'girl world'.

He also began to notice a subtle shift in her mannerisms. She spoke with a different cadence, and her physical mannerisms were much more pronounced. She seemed to be much less subdued than she was when they went out as a couple. He was especially appalled at the way she spoke about other women.

Normally, Dana was very nice and polite. She didn't ever gossip, nor did she put people down, at least, not in front of her husband. Now, they were sitting at a sidewalk cafe eating fish tacos and drinking margaritas, and his quiet, shy, and conservative wife was dishing on most of the women that passed by, like one of those bitchy 'plastic' girls in that Lindsay Lohan film. From Sloan's point of view, it was almost as fascinating to watch Dana as it was to watch the people on the streets.

As the afternoon passed, they began to form an outline for their plan for Matt and Danielle Sharp's Carnaval party. Since it would be a costume party, Sloan couldn't just show up in a dress and convince everyone that he was a woman. There were sure to be a lot of men in drag playing it campy, slutty, straight, or any variety of same. To make it work, they had to be subtle, as there was only one shot at the brass ring.

They settled on the idea of Sloan going as a woman wearing a costume. The main problem would be deciding what costume for 'her' to wear. It had to be a good costume that any natural born woman would wear to a costume party. It also had to be just a little 'over-the-top'. After all, this was Carnaval. They eventually agreed that a Vegas showgirl costume would fit the bill. The gaudiness of Vegas would be in perfect harmony with the party theme. It would also utilize one of Sloan's best features. His legs were to die for.

They were both feeling a little mellow, Sloan giggling like a schoolgirl at his wife's impromptu dialogue as she supplied the voices for another couple who seemed to be having an animated discussion. Dana paused, watching how Sloan casually held his fingers in front of his lips in a very feminine gesture. It was becoming difficult for her to reconcile the Sloan across from her with the man she had been with for so many years.

Her eye was suddenly drawn to a pair of men across the room. They were both tall and tanned, typical California hunks. They were also watching her and Sloan the way a lion watches a gazelle. As he caught her eye, the one on the right smiled and raised his glass, slightly in salute, watching for her reaction. She was held by his strong gaze for several seconds as she felt an uncharacteristic heat rising within her. She held her own glass and almost returned his smile when she realized what she was doing.

Sloan, seeing her gaze, shifted in his seat and began to turn as Dana spoke up.

"Oh my God, baby. Look at the time."

She caught the eye of their server and signaled for the check. As the young lady hurried over, Sloan began to reach for his wallet before realizing how he was dressed. As he began to fumble for his purse, she produced a credit card and smiled at him.

"I have it, sweetie."

For a moment, Sloan was taken aback, as this was what he always said when they went out to eat. As they gathered their things and started for the door, Dana was unable to stop herself from looking back. The man's eyes locked on hers as his companion seemed to be focused like a laser beam on Sloan's ass. Her heart fluttered as the man winked at her, smiling broadly. As soon as they reached the street, Dana hustled them back toward home, a warm dampness soaking her panties.

That night, as her feminized husband fucked her, she begged him to pound his cock into her. She was ashamed as she called out to him to fuck her harder, like a slut. All the while, behind her tightly-closed eyes, she saw a man who bore absolutely no resemblance to Sloan Taylor.

Chapter Fourteen

Gabriel opened the door of the office suite and announced, "A Mr. Dern is outside and would like a word with you, Sir." While Danielle insisted on his referring to her as Mistress whenever they were alone, Matt only allowed it when they were in the play room, preferring to separate the business relationship from the family one.

No emotion showed on Matt's face as he responded to the unexpected news as if he had been waiting for it....and perhaps he had been.

"Ask him to wait, offer refreshments, and send for my wife, please."

"Done, sir."

This response brought a nearly indiscernible twitch at the corner of Matt's mouth, and a twinkle in his steel gray eyes.

"Of course. Thank you, Gabriel. You are...a valued member of our family."

Gabriel blushed with pride and looked down to avoid letting Matt see the tears forming. It was for naught as his Master spoke, softly.

"It is a necessary pain, Gabriel. It is a part of the process. If you would truly honor us, you must grow as a person and become all that you are capable of"

Gabriel could only nod his head, feeling the truth of his Master's words.

When he had left the Philippines, he had no friends here. He felt as though he had been cast out by his father. Gabriel Vargas was born the son of a rich Filipino industrialist. Though he lived in the man's home until he was seventeen, he never looked upon him as a father. This was reciprocated in that the man rarely seemed to notice that his youngest child even existed.

Anthony Gabriel Vargas Ruiz was born the youngest of seven children. In many ways, he was considered a miracle baby. The doctors believed he would be severely retarded because he had stopped breathing several times during and after his birth. His birth weight was a mere 4 pounds, 3 ounces. He was sickly and required a respirator for days. His doctors were certain that he had suffered brain damage, as their CT and EEG scans showed a diminished amount of mental activity.

His father, Enrique Rodolfo "Ricky" Ruiz had thought that the lack of sex with his wife, Graciela should have guaranteed that fact. His mother had been scrupulous about avoiding sex outside of marriage, and only had one night of sex in the three years preceding Gabriel's birth. That occurrence was the fault of his secretary, who had gotten tired of being fucked by her boss and dumped him while quitting her job and moving out to live with her new fiancé.

Ricky had been furious. After all, he had paid the rent on her apartment, gave her generous gifts, leased her a car, and demanded only sex in return. How dare she refuse him? His mind was unable to fathom that she might feel used, or that she might chafe at being a bird in a gilded cage.

In his anger, Ricky had trashed the apartment while consuming a bottle of Tanduay Rum. By the time his driver got him home, he was a mess.

He stumbled into the bedroom and surprised his wife, whom he had told earlier that he would be spending the night in town, working.

Graciela was a wiry Filipina who knew that her husband was a philandering bastard. As a good Catholic, she still prayed for his soul, as well as the unfortunate women he preyed upon. She had given her husband six healthy children as well as her youth, and she was pragmatic about the fact that she had a nice home, a healthy credit card limit, a small circle of real friends, as well as her wonderful children. Gracie considered it a fair trade and was willing to settle for that as long as the bastard didn't rub her nose in his infidelity, or harm her babies.

That night, as Ricky stumbled about the bedroom cursing, she realized that the words were directed at his latest lover, and she lost it. The oldest children were away at college, but the twins Lilibeth and Malaya (age 13) and little Tala (9) were at home and fast asleep.
The fight was short and violent. As she tried her best to claw out his eyes, before he backhanded her across the mouth. As she fell back on the bed, her nightgown torn open, he felt a sudden stirring in his loins. Here was a focus for his impotent rage, an outlet for the pent-up fury that he felt.

Before she could regain her senses he was ripping her gown and panties to shreds and his large bulk pinned her to the mattress as he forced her legs apart. She had honored her marriage covenant and never sought the affections of any man outside her marriage, but this moment engendered a smoldering resentment of her husband, and all men in general, that she carried until her death from cervical cancer fourteen years later.

At that moment, Danielle Sharp swept into the room. "What's going on, Matt?" She winked at Gabriel with a smirk as she stood in the center of the room, hands on hips and feet apart.

Matt sat behind his desk, leaning back in the chair, fingers steepled under his chin as he gazed at his wife. "Thomas Dern is in the house."

Her deep blue eyes glowed dangerously as the smile left her face and her left eyebrow rose slightly. "Is he now?"

She immediately strode toward the door, but her husband arrested her with a single word.

"Wait"

She turned on him, tossing her glossy auburn hair over her shoulder. Her angry reply was stillborn as their eyes locked. Gabriel watched, spellbound like a mouse watching the cats decide who gets first dibs. He was used to this, the way they seemed to communicate on a subliminal level. Danielle was outwardly fiery and volatile, but that masked her inner self. It was something she used, like a tool. A counterpoint to Matt Sharp's cool and collected force.

Matt Sharp commanded respect while Danielle demanded it. In negotiation, that was one of their strongest tools. She was the wild card, her mood shifting like mercury with her physical and vocal emotions. She could be velvet soft sweetness and turn into a ravaging tigress in an instant. Her husband projected a consistent image. Solid. Restrained. Dependable. His emotions were always buried deep.

"Darling, we need to handle this very carefully."

"Fuck careful. I will personally plow his ass and make him cry like a little girl!"

Matt smiled at his wife, as Gabriel squirmed, remembering some of their more...creative...sessions.

"My dearest angel, as appealing as that suggestion might be, we should perhaps be a little more circumspect."

"Why? That little prick tried to fuck us. I pick and choose to whom I will allow that particular privilege."

"While that may appear to be true, I have heard whispers that this was Brandin's idea, not his agent's."

"Tough shit."

Matt's laughter brought a smile to his wife's face,

"I so love it when I hear that gutter language coming from those delicious high-society lips in that oh-so-proper, Boston accent." Matt rose and came around to take both of his wife's hands in his own.

Holding her gaze, he bent his head forward and punctuated each word with a kiss as he continued,

"just" (dotting the left corner of her mouth)

"such" (dotting the right corner of her mouth)

"delicious" (nibbling her lower lip)

"lips" (sealing his mouth to hers in a lingering kiss)

After 14 years of marriage, Matt Sharp still had an indescribable effect on his wife. He was truly her soul mate. Danielle had had little interest in men, apart from using them as toys, before she had met Matt. At first, she had looked upon him as a conquest. Until then, she had found men, especially the rich and powerful ones, to be weak and fragile little boys who hid behind a facade. She had enjoyed bending them to her will.

Matt Sharp had seemed amused by her amateurish attempts to dominate him. Eventually, he managed to prove himself to be a veritable Rock of Gibraltar for her. Along the way, he had also helped her to find herself as a Domme.

She melted into his kiss.

Chapter Fifteen

"Mr. Dern to see you, Mr. Sharp"

Matt sat behind his massive desk in the position of power as Brandin Jessup's agent, Thomas Dern was shown in by Gabriel. As Dern walked to the desk, Gabriel closed the door and crossed to a beverage cabinet where he remained, arms folded across his chest, watching the wiry agent like a hawk. Dern walked past the comfy sofa and chairs to the supplicant's seat directly in front of the desk. He had expected nothing less, knowing quite well how the power game is played.

His only real surprise was that Danielle Sharp was not here. He had expected her, as Matt's business partner and co-producer, to make a point of being present. In fact, he had rather hoped that she would be. Danielle's reputation for volatility was well known and might have provided Thomas' client with additional ammunition.

Ah well, he thought, it was worth hoping for.

He turned his attention to Matt Sharp. The man was definitely a force to be reckoned with. He was also quite a poker player, as his face was an expressionless mask. There was a long pregnant pause as Thomas Dern opened his briefcase and began extracting documents. He gathered a few extraneous pages and sorted them in his lap before returning his gaze to the film director, whose face might have been carved in granite.

"Mr. Sharp, I appreciate your kindness in taking the time to see me on such short notice."

As he spoke, his eyes wandered casually about the office, noting that Matt's personal assistant had remained in the room. That was unexpected, but he was not certain whether it was a good or bad thing.

"As you are aware, my client has had a minor setback in his recovery, and he regrets the inconvenience that it may have caused to yourself, or to your production company, Dark Fantasy Films."

Matt remained silent, watching the other man.

"I have been assured by my client's doctors that the test was accidentally contaminated and that another test was done which proves my client is drug-free and capable of fulfilling his commitment."

"What commitment would that be?"

"Why the commitment to star in Soft Kill, of course."

"Ah. I see there has been some confusion. Brandin Jessup is not under contract to play any role in that project."

"I have the contract right here, and it is signed by all parties."

"I'm sure that you do, however that contract was voided when your client voluntarily entered drug rehabilitation. By the way, please inform him that my wife and I are big fans of his, and while we regret that we were unable to do this project together, we both applaud him for his integrity in seeking help for his off-screen issues. We wish your client well in his recovery."

Thomas Dern frowned at the director. "Let's cut to the chase, Mr. Sharp. My client was an idiot and he is willing to make concessions...serious ones."

Matt's laughter was brief, "Your client is a fucked up little shit who thought he could screw me for an extra few million to feed his drug-fueled lifestyle. I don't need that kind of a headache."

"I can guarantee that he will remain clean, follow every instruction, and take the role for ten percent of the previous agreement, with the same points as before, of course."

"No"

"No? Can you really afford to shelve the project? We both know that this role is perfect for Brandin. There is nobody else in town that can make it work."

"Who said anything about shelving it? Soft Kill is going into production on schedule...despite the best efforts of Brandin Jessup."

"Impossible. Who else could you possibly find that can play it?"

"Thank you for your concern. I'm sure you can read about it in Variety. Gabriel, show Mr. Dern out."

"Yes sir"

Thomas Dern stood, his face a frozen mask. "Are you sure you want this kind of trouble? You are leaving me very few options."

"Actually, Brandin Jessup may well be a star on the decline, and your problems, as well as your options, are his doing, not ours. Good afternoon, Mr. Dern, and please give him our regards."

Gabriel returned after showing the agent out. Matt was still sitting at his desk with a pensive expression on his face. Danielle was sitting on the desk facing her husband. As soon as Gabriel closed the door, she looked up at him with troubled eyes.

"The playroom, Gabi. Now!"

Gabriel shivered with anticipation before hurrying across the room to the far door.

Chapter Sixteen

Sloan was tending bar for the regular afternoon crowd while his mind applied itself to his favorite passive spectator sport, people watching.

The big difference, in this case, was that the people he was watching were women. Usually, Sloan liked to add the gestures, speech patterns, and physical attitudes of the customers that came into the club to his acting repertoire. it made for a quick and easy reference when he might be asked to read an unexpected part at an audition.

Tonight, his focus was on the women who came in. He was shocked at the nuances of womanhood. While men were physically extroverted, women were much more subtle. That is not to say that they were less complex. On the contrary, they were infinitely more so. A simple thing like a tilt of the head, a raising of an eyebrow, or a simple reply could carry a plethora of meanings. It was like learning a foreign language.

He had witnessed many pick-up attempts at the club, both successful and unsuccessful. It was part of being a bartender. People came to the

Anvil for a variety of reasons, but several of those reasons included some form of sexual connection. That is not to say that every connection involved physical sex; however, it involved some form of emotional sexual connection.

Many women came to be seen. Many more came to be discovered. It seemed that they all came to be on display. He could not help thinking that for them it was a form of performance art. They went through costuming, auditioned, performed in some fashion, and received the acclaim. In many ways, to Sloan, it seemed as though the performance did not need to include sex to be successful, it only needed to imply sex.

As a case in point, he had noticed a gorgeous, leggy blonde, well-endowed, maybe 28-33. She sat at the bar and sipped from a glass of Chardonnay for over an hour. During that time, at least, two dozen men (and three different women) hit on her. She was friendly, very pleasant to all, with the exception of a few jerks that tried to get too 'handy', and was sometimes flirty. After shooting down another would-be conquistador, she smiled, stuffed a twenty in the tip jar, winked at Sloan, and walked out with a smile on her face like the cat who got the canary.

Apparently, she was very pleased with how her evening went. There was a definite sexual tension around her all evening. Yet, she left alone. It was an amazing performance. He began to realize just how much power a woman has over her, supposedly stronger, male counterparts.

As the night proceeded, he would sometimes look into the mirror behind the bar and toss his head, smile just so, or imitate some other mannerism that he had seen during the evening. He was so absorbed that he failed to notice some of the looks he was getting from patrons, and staff.

Toni came by during a lull and caught his performance.

"You auditioning for Gayz n' Dollz?" she asked, naming a club that was legendary for its "shemale" review.

"Huh?"

"Sugar, the way you keep flouncing behind the bar, customers are beginning to wonder if we are running a cabaret?"

Sloan glowed beet red, "Sorry, I just...."

Toni raised an eyebrow and was off to one of her tables before he could figure out what to say. A few minutes later, she came back with an order and he spoke up.

"Look, Toni...I'm sorry if I'm acting a little weird. I was offered a chance to audition for a part, but I'm not sure I can do it."

"Sloan, you're a great talent. What's the big deal?"

"You remember what you said about the new Matt Sharp film?"

"OH MY GOD !!! You have an audition for Matt Sharp????"

"Shhhhhhhh !" Sloan frantically tried to calm her down. "It isn't so much an audition, as...."

"GET OUT! I heard he is a little kinky, but he wants..."

"NO!" Sloan hurriedly replied. "It's not like that."

"Ooooo-Kay," she smirked, "Tell Auntie Toni what it is like"

Just then Toni had to take care of someone else, and it took most of the night for Sloan to lay it all out for her. He eventually was able to fill her in on Dana's being invited to the Sharp's Carnaval party, Danielle Sharp's assumption that Sloan was a woman, and Dana and Danielle cooking up a plan for Sloan to go to the party en femme in order to convince Matt Sharp that he would fit the role perfectly.

"Actually, that isn't a bad plan" Toni eyed Sloan critically. "You have gorgeous facial structure and slight physique that could definitely fit a man or a woman. I would think that might well be worth the risk"

"What risk?"

"That some sex-hungry movie star might rape your cute little ass for one" she giggled.

Sloan glowered at her for a moment, before he started to laugh.

"Thank you, little miss sunshine!"

He began to frown but she was quick to interject, "Come on, Sloan. This could be a huge break for you. You know that."

"Yeah" he sighed as the lights flashed twice for last call.

Chapter Seventeen

Dana left for work the next morning without waking her husband. As she dressed for work, she took a long look at her sleeping spouse. Sloan was laying on his back with his gorgeous hair fanned out in a glowing halo around his face.

"He looks just like an angel", she thought.

Dana had loved this man almost from the moment that they met, but she had never really looked that deeply into the feelings that she had for Sloan Taylor. She only felt gratitude that this gorgeous, tender, caring man had been willing to spend his time, energy, and love for someone as undeserving as Dana Midkiff.

She had been astonished when she realized that he truly had feelings for her. Indeed, she had worried at first that Sloan was playing some cruel joke on her. Her small stature and childish features were a constant source of embarrassment for Dana, and it would not have been the first time that something humiliating was done to her. She had been victimized by boys many times before.

-In middle school some girls had admitted her into their social circle. They were friendly, popular, and pretty. They were everything that Dana wasn't. They invited her to Janet Behan's pool party/sleepover. During the evening, the girls gave each other makeovers. Dana was so excited just to be accepted, to feel like she belonged. The next day she awoke with her hair dyed a hideous purple and her eyebrows shaved off.

The girls all apologized and said they mixed up the bottles by accident. Dana's mother was livid. Janet's mother offered to pay for her to go to a salon for damage control. Unfortunately, the damage was pretty extensive and for three months Dana wore her hair very short and had to draw in her eyebrows, all the while enduring the sniggers of her so-called 'friends'.

As a freshman in high school, she had been invited to a party by an older boy that she had a crush on. It was a disaster as he disappeared with Amanda Stanton, one of the queen bees of her school, shortly after they arrived. She was ignored for over two hours while all the time feeling that people were laughing at her behind her back. She later learned that it was all a joke on her by Amanda and her little coven of followers.

What was worse was that she was afraid to call her mom for fear that Rich, her step-dad, would be the one to come get her. As a result, she ended up walking most of the way home and ruined her dress and new shoes in a downpour. Her mother was furious when Dana finally got in, soaking wet, at almost two in the morning. Rich had been out looking for her and punished her extensively the next morning while her mom was out shopping.-

Some people seem to go through life with a 'victim' tag hovering over them. Dana had always felt that way. She had horrible self-esteem issues, and her experiences only seemed to reinforce this problem. Although she was smart, beautiful, and had an amazing singing voice, she could never find the courage to perform. Instead, she worked tirelessly behind the scenes, doing the millions of necessary tasks that every production required.

When she left for the studio, her mind was a maelstrom of competing emotions. She loved Sloan. She needed him. Sloan was her soul mate.
Dana knew, beyond any doubt, that Sloan had the talent to become a star.

She also could not help worrying about the consequences of his getting his big break in this particular role. She could not help worrying about what ulterior motives Danielle and Matt Sharp might have for her and her husband. It was oft-rumored, within the industry, that Matt and Danielle Sharp had rather esoteric lifestyle tastes. The gossip sheets were always alluding to their indulging in activities that were 'outside the box' of what society considered a traditional marriage to be.

Actually, thought Dana, That isn't really all that weird for Hollywood, where 'alternative lifestyle' is almost considered mainstream.

If she went along with Danielle's plan, could she really afford to risk losing Sloan? She wanted to push things along for them; but, was she doing it to help her husband, or was she doing it to indulge her own sick and twisted cravings? She knew that the thought of what someone as commanding as Danielle Sharp could do to both of them was exciting to her. Exciting? It soaked her panties just to think about it.

Sloan was not like his wife. He was clean and sweet, a loving and tender man. How could she expose him to the risks of what the Sharp's might do to him? She tried to weigh the pros and cons objectively, but the dampness in her panties and the thundering of her heart made that impossible.

A single tear trailed its way down her cheek as she knew that the decision was out of her hands. She had never been a strong person, Rich Midkiff had seen to that. Her default setting was always submissive to the will of those who were stronger than her. Danielle Sharp had actually taken that decision out of her hands the very moment she proposed her plan.

When she arrived at the studio, Dana was not at all surprised to find that Danielle Sharp had left a message with her assistant. Opening the envelope she found a terse note.

Report to my office immediately.

No signature. A royal summons, with no pleasant greetings or professional courtesies.

Dana left her office in a hurry, without leaving instructions for her assistant. Her short legs moved quickly as she struggled to control the thudding drumbeat of her heart. When she arrived, Danielle's secretary notified the producer that Dana was waiting. The young blonde listened briefly, then instructed Dana to wait.

Wound tighter than a spring, Dana sat on the edge of her seat, fidgeting. After a few minutes, the secretary looked up at her.

"You may go in now"

Dana almost sprinted to the door, pausing to take a deep breath. Adjusting her clothing, nervously, and shuddering briefly, she entered Danielle Sharp's lair.

Chapter Eighteen

Sloan woke up after a troubled sleep. His conversation with Toni had caused him to really take a look at his career. He knew that he had the talent to make it in this town, but what did that really mean? The world was full of highly talented actors. They flocked to Hollywood and New York every day. Each one of them certain that they could be a star. Some few actually had a modicum of success, but the vast majority were ground up like sausage and in no time, they were back home in some bar telling lies about their empty dreams.

He knew that talent was not a guarantee of success. It also required commitment and opportunity. In Hollywood, opportunities were like the proverbial golden ticket of Willie Wonka fame. They were so rare, that many people failed to recognize them when they were right in front of their faces. Sloan Taylor recognized this opportunity for what it was, a one-in-a-billion shot at stardom. He had the talent and the opportunity. He could not afford to lack commitment at this point.

He felt a pang of self-loathing as he remembered returning to their tiny bungalow and sitting on the sofa for two hours without letting Dana know he was home. It troubled him even more that he might have upset her since she had failed to wake him as she left this morning. Their work schedules were rarely aligned, but in four years, they had rarely failed in this ritual as they came and went. It was just part of their...one-ness...that they made a point of sharing those moments with each other.

He had been feeling so guilty last night, knowing that he had failed to wake her because he did not want her to know how eager he was to be feminized. It was a part of himself that he had always hidden from her. Something that shamed him, as a man.

He wandered into the living room and saw the bags that Dana had brought, clothing, make-up, jewelry, accessories. His heart fluttered as he was drawn to the bag of lingerie. His fingers began to lightly caress the silky undergarments as his eyes closed and he drank in the feelings. He knew it was wrong. This was something that had been reinforced many times by his father. Men were men and women were women. Any attempt to cross that line was deviant, sinful, evil.

Sloan loved his father, and he could not ever recall the man raising his voice, much less his hand, to his only son. He was a kind and gentle man, who rarely talked about his life before he met Sloan's mother. He knew that his dad had served in the military, and had three scars where tattoos had been removed. Whenever his son asked him about them, Braddock Taylor said that they were "monuments to my stupidity" and then he would get a far-off look and go quiet.

Sloan's mother shed very little light on the subject, only saying that many men are changed by life, and some things are best forgotten. That had become Sloan's mantra regarding cross dressing...some things are best forgotten. Now, life had thrown him a curveball. He had his shot, but it required remembering and embracing his past.

Over the years, Sloan had been perceptive enough to know how people reacted to his androgynous looks, but he had always managed to 'man up' and use his talent to hide anything that might be too effeminate. His father's disappointment the time he learned of Sloan's dressing up, as well as the attitude of other boys toward any guy that acted 'queer' were enough to convince him to guard his actions at all times.

With a deep sigh, Sloan Taylor put the garments back down and began undressing. When he was naked he went into the bathroom and began to draw himself a bath. 'In for a penny...' he thought, as he added a generous amount of bath lotion and crystals to the hot water.

He ran his hands along his legs and arms then picked up one of Dana's safety razors before entering the steaming tub. As Sloan sank into the hot water, he tried to clear his mind. He needed to create a space within himself to mold and shape the new character. As he began soaping his leg, he had a sudden realization that perhaps he was not so much creating a new character, as he was releasing one that had been there all along.

Sloan drew the razor along his legs and softly began humming a soft melody that he recalled performing with his sisters. They were both grown and had children. Abby, the oldest, had been divorced twice and was already bitching about husband number three. She had always been a free-spirit and he smiled to himself as he remembered her as a teen. She was always a bit pushy, an instigator. Deb, the middle sister, always complained that Abby kept getting them all in trouble, but somehow, they always ended up going along with whatever hare-brained idea she came up with.

He finished his left leg and began to work on the right, noticing that his toenails needed a trim. He idly wondered about what color would look pretty on them. Despite his earlier fears, Sloan couldn't help it as a feeling of calm came over him. He continued reminiscing as he cleaned the hair from his chest, arms and armpits.

When he stepped out of the bath, he wrapped his body in a towel up high, the way Dana did. Stepping to her vanity, he opened a bottle of lotion and began rubbing it into his skin, enjoying the sleek way his body felt. Taking the seat in front of the mirror, he used a cleanser on his face before applying any cosmetics. Although Sloan was not nearly the expert that his wife was, he knew a lot more about skin care and make-up than 90% of the men in the world. He began to slowly unveil the woman within as he worked at the mirror, marveling at the transformation he saw.

Chapter Nineteen

The lines of coke shot straight into his brain as Brandin let out a gasp. The rush hit him like a freight train and helped him to focus. A small part of himself had screamed at him to wait, warning him that this could wipe out his chances at Soft Kill. Unfortunately, Brandin was just too fucked up to care, and it was all Matt Sharp's fault. That prick had dumped him from the project and tried to destroy him. Who the fuck did he think he was?

Okay, maybe the rehab thing had been a bad move, but what choice did he have? He had been at the studio when two suits with credentials had approached him about needing a urine sample. He knew that there was no way he could pass a random urine test after he had needed a morning pick-me-up not two hours before.

Instead, he began cursing the pair, accusing them of being fakes. A couple of his bodyguards restrained them while Brandin went to have a word with Matt Sharp. Of course, Brandin went right to his driver, left the studio, and checked himself into rehab. As for his agent...okay, so maybe he hadn't really thought that one through, but so what? Thomas Dern worked for Brandin, not the other way around. Besides, Brandin Jessup had made plenty of money for Dern over the years.

Clarissa (Clara? Clarice?), whoever the hell she was, snuggled in tight against him, grasping his wood as she pressed her big titties into his face.

"MMMMMMMMM....someone feels good", she purred as she straddled his lap.

Brandin looked over her shoulder at a leggy blonde with glassy eyes who was watching them and playing with herself. Where the fuck had she come from? Had she been here all night? To his left, another pair of girls were making out. The smaller blonde one looked like she was maybe fourteen...fifteen tops.

Brandin was certain that his bodyguards would have made sure she was eighteen. Hollywood was full of pedophiles, but those were the 'Untouchables'. A high-profile actor was too visible, his career would be ruined if he was busted for fucking children, so she must be old enough to be here.

"FUCK!"

With her tiny boobs and pigtails she was seriously getting into the tall brunette she was tongue-wrestling with.

His mind was a jumble of images and sounds as he felt each pulse of his heart send blood coursing through his cock in time with the blaring music that pulsed in various shades around the room. His house smelled of sweat, sex, and the chlorine aftertaste of coke. His body shivered as the bitch on his lap sunk down on him, engulfing his cock in her hot wetness. He groaned, or was it she who groaned? Everything was spinning too fast and his mind just couldn't seem to catch up.

The slutty little teeny-bopper with the a-cup tits was proving to be quite a rug muncher as she went down on the brunette. He saw the taller girl grab the blonde's pigtails and grind her face with her pussy. He even managed to see and hear her loud moan of pleasure in almost perfect sync, which helped him focus his mind on his problem.

Matt Sharp.

The bastard was trying to destroy Brandin Jessup, and there was no way Brandin would let that happen. His mind began to devise ways to make the Sharp's pay, but he knew that these were just stupid fantasies. He didn't want to maim or kill them....as nice as that idea might sound.

No.

He needed to make them back down and give him this part. Brandin had paid too much of his humanity to get where he was in this industry.

He thought back to some of the things that men, and women had done to him in the years since his mom had secured for him a part in a TV pilot by simply pimping his ass out to the director for a weekend.

Uh-uh.

No way, Jose.

Not gonna happen.

Brandin was not going to have it all fall apart now. All he needed was an edge. Something he could use for leverage against the Sharps.

He was well aware of their sexual diversions, he even kinda looked forward to the possibility of being 'tamed' by Danielle Sharp. He felt his cock throb at the image. No. Morality in Hollywood was a joke. All you had to do was watch TV to see that their fun and games were pretty pedestrian.

Drugs? Doubtful. Brandin had never heard a whisper connecting either of the Sharps with so much as a toke of weed....and that was legal...practically. So without sex or drugs, what could he get on them?

It was a cinch that he was gonna need someone on the inside. Someone in their inner circle should be able to get all the dirt on both of the Sharps. once he had something good, he could have both of them at his mercy.

"MMMMMMMM"

That thought was enough to excite Brandin. He felt his cock swelling as the door burst open. As his seed spilled into whatever-her-name-was, and Brandin watched as his agent, Thomas Dern walked into the room, flanked by two of Brandin Jessup's bodyguards.

"FUCK ME!"

Brandin would never be sure whether those words were his own, or the slut's.

-----------

It took almost an hour to sort things out, and Thomas Dern was royally pissed off. You couldn't tell it by his facial expressions, body language, or tone of voice, but Brandin knew he was royally pissed just the same.

"Brandin, I am so very....disappointed...in you."

The agent had sent the two bruisers off with the girls, and a handful of cash. He sat across from his client and methodically cleaned his round spectacles before replacing them on his face.

"What are we to do? It seems as if you have been less than forthcoming with me, Brandin."

"Huh?"

"Pay attention, and try to think. I didn't bring cue cards."

"Hey. I was just relaxing. It isn't as if I had a job to go to!" was the heated reply.

"Yes. it would seem as though your career may have exceeded its expiration date. You do realize that the whole point of this thing was to rejuvenate your career, don't you? Perhaps I should have just cut my losses."

The dapper agent rose to his feet and turned toward the door.

"WAIT!" the younger man frantically cried.

"Whatever for? I have indulged your pettiness, your lack of restraint, and your overindulgence for far too long."

"Please....I can do this....you know I can!"

"Dear boy, I have been your most ardent supporter. If I did not realize that you were capable, I would not have wasted my time."

He sighed, "It is not me that you have to convince, Brandin. It is Matt Sharp, and he appears to be less than satisfied with both your talent, as well as your commitment. He also appears to be totally confident that he can make your termination from this film stick. Why should that be, pray tell?"

Thomas folded his arms as the younger man began to squirm.

"It begins to appear to me that you, Brandin Jessup, have been less than forthcoming about the details behind your exit from the project."

Brandin hung his head, "OK. This is how it went down. I was on the set for a read-through and...."

Chapter Twenty

Dozens of emotions were roiling within Dana's soul as she made her way home from the studio. The day had been a roller coaster of events, announcements, innuendos and activities that had left her breathless. Above the rest hung a dark cloud of guilt that threatened to overwhelm the young wife. At one point, on the drive home, Dana had begun to shudder so violently that she was forced to pull over.

She had made it to the shoulder of the road without incident before her body was wracked with sobs. It took her almost twenty minutes before she felt as if she could continue her drive to the house. Those minutes were mostly spent replaying the day's events, beginning with her summons to Danielle Sharp's office.

"Dana. We have a lot of ground to cover"

Ms. Sharp was coolly professional and wore a severe expression.

"There are complications that we need to address. Those are of no concern to you, but there are going to be a lot of heads rolling if your girl can't deliver the goods."

Dana was momentarily confused. "My....girl?"

"Don't be obtuse! Sloan, dammit! If Sloan can't pull this off, it could make things...difficult...for my husband and me."

"I understand, Da...I mean....uhm...Ms...uh...Sharp"

Danielle's eyes locked onto Dana like a laser, holding her. She held the gaze forever (at least it seemed that way to Dana) and seemed to almost be invading her space, although she was several feet away. Dana could feel herself surrendering to it, drowning into those deep blue pools, losing awareness of everything around her.

Danielle languidly crossed to Dana, her eyes holding her captive, until she stood towering over the diminutive brunette, their bodies almost touching.

"Listen to me very closely, my darling child," her sultry voice was almost hypnotic. "Sloan must be 100 percent convincing by the night of the party. She must be completely feminine in every nuance. She must offer herself up to my husband as a symbol of womanhood. Any mistake, the slightest miscue, an errant masculine gesture or reference, anything at all that reveals what she has between her legs will be a disaster of epic proportions. Do you understand?"

Dana felt her heart pound as the enormity of the task at hand fell upon her slight shoulders like the weight of the universe. She tried to form words for several seconds before swallowing and whispering a soft "Yes, Miss"

Danielle's expression was almost dazzling as her smile shone out and bathed the young wife.

"Good girl, I have complete faith in you."

She reached out with her left hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dana's ear, lightly brushing her cheek. Dana's breath caught as her eyes closed, briefly. She could taste the older woman's scent as she inhaled sharply, almost causing her to swoon. She felt the breath of her next words on her ear.

"Very good girl, indeed"

~o~O~o~
--------

Later that morning she met with Gabriel, Matt Sharp's PA. Gabriel had a message from the Sharps asking for her attendance at a working lunch to discuss Soft Kill. She had expected it to be held at the studio, so was surprised when Gabriel led her to a waiting limo.

After a short drive, during which Gabriel was constantly typing into his phone, they arrived at Chef Nozawa's SUGARFISH, where Matt and Danielle were already seated. Dana felt overwhelmed as she was surrounded by many of the city's movers and shakers, many of whom stopped by the table to discuss various subjects.

As she idly picked at her sushi, allowing the conversation and the traffic to ebb and flow around her, she could not help but notice that Gabriel was casting occasional glances her way. As lunch neared its conclusion, Matt began to casually ask Dana about herself. At first, she was shy, but with the reassurance of a nod and smile from Danielle, she began to open up.

Dana told about her experiences in the industry, her college and high school background, her life growing up in Texas. As the questions began to become a bit more personal, she shared a story about how she and her husband met and their dreams for the future.

Matt was very interested in her work, and when she spoke about her personal ambitions, he perked up considerably. By the time they left the restaurant, they all got into a limo for the ride back. Sitting across from Dana, Matt smiled and caught his wife's hand in his own.

"Dana, We have a proposition for you. Gabriel is leaving soon, and I need a replacement. I am looking for someone that has experience in the industry, is intelligent and capable, and has a degree of....flexibility. In short, we would like to offer the position to you."

She was dumbfounded.

"To me, sir?"

"Yes, to you. However, before you give an answer, I want to make sure that you understand fully what the job entails."
Her heart was pounding. "Yes Sir"

"First, you would be assistant director on this project. As such, you would be responsible for taking care of the billions of things that I don't have time to deal with, including helping set up shooting schedules and storyboards, dealing with script changes, handling second unit shooting, and a lot more"

She could only nod as she replied. "Yes Sir"

"Second, I would need you to attend me at meetings, functions, filming, editing, and be my eyes and ears when I am not able to attend anything that pertains to the film project."

She was almost shaking with excitement as the enormity of the opportunity hit her. Dana Taylor learning at the feet of one of the greatest directors in the industry.

"Yes, Sir!"

"Lastly, you would be privy to my council, and that of our studio"

He nodded toward Danielle, whose eyes had remained fixed on Dana throughout the exchange.

"In other words, you would know the most intimate details of our lives, things that you may not be completely comfortable with, things that might shock you."

Dana blushed hotly as she recalled some of the more salacious rumors that she had heard about their sexual relationship.

"I assure you that Danielle and I are firm believers in care, safety, and accountability. We are both sexual dominants and enjoy the Domination/submission lifestyle a LOT."

He emphasized his comment with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

"With that said, we do not push boundaries beyond where a sexual submissive is willing to go. We use safe words and do not ever do anything that would cause permanent physical harm. We also do not insist that anyone participate in what we do, only that they keep our private lives private."

He paused for several moments, allowing the words to sink in and holding back any reply with a raised hand.

"We do not need your answer right away. Gabriel will be with us until after the party. I would like you to work closely with him until that time. Afterward, you can let us know what you decide. By the way, I understand that you and your husband will be attending our little soiree."

"No darling," interrupted Danielle, before Dana could reply, "It seems that Dana's hubby is apparently working on some commercial that weekend, so she is bringing a girlfriend along. Isn't that right, dear?"

"OH....um Yes Miss!"

"Excellent!" replied Matt, "Is she pretty?"

Danielle held Dana with her gaze, smiling seductively. "Oh yes, darling. She is a very delectable girl. I am sure you will love her!"

Chapter Twenty-One

Arriving home, Dana's mind was whirling with emotions, but the most prominent was a feeling of guilt. She had always been painfully honest with Sloan, and they had shared vows of both honesty, and chastity. Dana had never before felt a desire to break those vows, but she rationalized her feelings by convincing herself that everything was for Sloan. Sure, it was kind of a way for her to indulge her own dark desires, but the ultimate goal was a pure one, wasn't it? This question and others haunted the young wife as she arrived at their tiny home.

As soon as Dana entered the house, she felt the ambiance change. The lights were dimmed and candles glowed on the table. The aromatic smells from the kitchen wafted around the room as seductively as incense. She heard the bedroom door open and saw a ravishing blonde beauty in a simple A-line dress gazing at her.

"Welcome home, my love," Sloan spoke in a soft husky contralto.

"My God, Sloan....I never expected..."

Sloan crossed to his wife and hesitated, allowing her a few moments to gauge the full effect. Her brow knitted as though she were a puppy waiting to see if she would be praised or remonstrated.

"I should have warned you, but I decided if we were going to truly do this, it would take a full-time commitment. Are you really sure you are okay with this?"

Dana stepped up to her feminized husband and stood on tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his painted lips. Sloan immediately wrapped his arms around his wife as the kiss deepened.

Sloan's voice was timid and shy, "I made dinner"

"I see that, thank you"

They ate quietly, each absorbed with their own thoughts, making harmless comments about mundane things. Sloan could not help but notice the creased brow that told him Dana was struggling with an issue. Several times he almost broached the subject but was afraid of how she might respond to her husband's new look.

For her part, Dana was struggling with what she should share about her day. She also noticed that Sloan seemed to be worried about something. Could it be possible that he already knew more than he was telling? Perhaps the Sharp's were playing some bizarre game on both of them. Sloan was usually pretty wired into the happenings here in Tinsel Town. Maybe he already suspected his wife had broken the vows that bound them.

As the meal was completed, an uncomfortable silence descended on the young couple. Each trying to find a word, a phrase, anything that would get them back on track and relieve the pressure. It was Dana who finally broke the silence.

"Something happened today...at the studio, I mean....something that concerns us both."

Sloan's eyes locked onto her. He looked so vulnerable and so worried. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and ease that look of pain. She steeled herself to continue.

"I had lunch with Matt and Dana Taylor. They made me a tentative offer. One that could have a huge impact on us."

She watched Sloan, his eyes wide and glistening. She felt her own eyes moisten as she swallowed back the lie of omission that she was about to make.

"Matt Sharp is looking for a new Assistant Director/Personal Assistant. His current PA, Gabriel Vargas will be working to bring me up to speed over the next few weeks. Matt suggested that we see where we are...how well we work together... after the end of the month and then make a permanent decision about my taking it on full-time."

Sloan's face lit up in a huge smile.

"Baby, I'm so happy for you!!!"

He hurried around the table and bent to kiss her.

"You will be an amazing director. I know you can do this. It's so awesome."

She allowed herself to be folded into the embrace. Shuddering as she pulled herself together for the next part....the part that she dreaded.

"Uhm....baby....there is....ummm...something else."

Sloan pulled back to look at her face. His eyes shining with love and adoration. He waited with an expression of complete trust. She wondered if this was the same expression a cow had as it waited for the hammer to end its life and turn it into hamburger.

"After the meeting, Danielle...ummm...suggested...that....well she really didn't suggest as much as insist...that...well....she wants you to take on a job as her own PA."

Sloan's eyes looked confused.

"A job? Why would she want me as a PA? I don't know a thing about it."

"She thinks that I will be too busy to train....I mean to teach you all you need to know to convince Matt that you're a woman....at his party I mean."

"You're kidding."

"She made me promise to bring you to her office for an interview in the morning. She said that my job is in no way contingent on your passing the interview, but she did make a point of telling me that if you do not pass it, they might look elsewhere to fill the role. She also pointed out that if that happened, you would have to convince her husband without any help from her....and very little help from me, as I will be working long hours with Matt."

Dana held her breath, waiting to see how Sloan would react to this bombshell. She was surprised when he took on a thoughtful expression, as he considered the possibilities. He stepped back from his wife and began pacing to and fro, his 3-inch heels making a click-clack sound on the cheap hardwood laminate flooring.

"Do you trust her, baby?"

Dana stifled the urge to scream "NO" as she forced herself to honestly answer her husband's question.

"I don't know", she sighed, "but, I don't think that we can afford not to take the chance.

"Neither do I." her feminized husband replied. "I have to try."

Dana wept silent tears well into the night, as Sloan slept fitfully beside her. She was so worried that she was making all the right moves for the wrong reasons, or all the wrong moves for the right reasons. Either way, she was terrified of what this might do to Sloan, and to her marriage. All the while, she couldn't help feeling an eager anticipation of what it might do to herself.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next morning, Sloan rose first, started the coffee, and ran himself a hot bath, shaving everywhere. By the time he rose from the tub, Dana was awake and ready for her shower.

"I hope you left me some hot water." she chided as she entered.

Sloan had to smile as he quipped, "As tiny as you are, you shouldn't need more than a few teaspoons"

"Bitch"

"Slut"

They broke into giggles. Sloan reached for some baby powder, but Dana stopped her husband, pointing to a bottle on the cabinet.

"Use the lotion everywhere and rub it into the skin to prevent razor burn"

He complied and began with his face, working down as Dana touched up his back with the razor, removing a few errant hairs and rubbing in lotion.

"Bend over and spread your legs, sweetie"

She was surprised when he instantly obeyed, allowing her to trace the razor around his nether bits, taking particular care with his testicles.
She could almost see the balls draw up as she traced the wrinkled skin with the sharp instrument.

She smirked, "Don't worry, baby. I like this part of you too much to turn you all the way to the dark side."

He caught his breath as she massaged the lotion into the recently denuded area, feeling his cock stiffen as she traced her fingers from his shaft to his balls to his puckered anus and back again.

"Mmmmmmm....someone seems to be enjoying this."

She pulled her hands away and turned to wash them, leaving her husband half-aroused as she entered the shower. She had really wanted to stroke him to completion but remembered Danielle's instructions. It worried her to wonder why the tall, older woman insisted that they not have any sex before the meeting. It frightened her. She did not like the thought of Danielle Sharp having sex with her Sloan. Ms. Sharp had seen the worried look in Dana's eyes at the instructions and had reassured the young wife that she would not be having sex with Sloan.

"It is a training tool" she had stated, "In a heightened state of arousal, Sloan will be much more aware of his body, and much more understanding of the sexual and sensual nature of what it is to be a woman. Remember, in two weeks, your husband has to be the quintessence of femininity."

It bothered her. Now that the rumors about the Sharps' sexual escapades had been confirmed, it bothered her a lot. They had made a lot of promises and guarantees about the consensual nature of their lifestyle, but she knew that there was no way that she could protect Sloan if they tried anything. She was trusting them, and she was sending Sloan into this blind, without giving him the option to make a decision for himself.

She rationalized to herself that they had made no mention of including Sloan in any sexual act. Matt had barely seemed to notice that she had a husband, and Danielle had only expressed a friendly interest in helping him get an audition. There was no mention of anything beyond that. Danielle was just helping her husband get the role of a lifetime.

Dana knew that she was rationalizing, but she realized that she was in too deep to back out now. Her mind had been made up from the moment that Danielle Sharp had proposed this plan. She could feel the undercurrents that threatened to drag her down, but she had committed to trusting them to live up to what they had promised.

As she helped finish Sloan's makeup, she felt as if events were sweeping her up too fast for her to think. She closed her eyes for a moment and offered up a short prayer. She had stopped praying when she was still a child when her stepfather had all but proved to her that there was no God. She had been to Sunday school back then, had loved being there in those happy days before her father died. The days before Rich Midkiff came into her life before her agonized prayers had gone unheeded.

She prayed that she wasn't making a mistake. She prayed that Sloan would not hate her for what she was, and what she was doing. She also prayed that, whatever happened, Sloan would be alright. She would gladly burn in hell and suffer torments everlasting for her sins as long as her sweet Sloan was safe and happy.

They got into her car for the short drive to the studio. Along the way, Sloan questioned her about Matt and Danielle Sharp. What were they really like? How much of the rumors were true? Were they really into some creepy sex cult?

He skirted around the questions he wanted to ask his wife. He was afraid to ask her if they expected anything from her that wasn't part of the standard business contract. He was afraid to ask what extra duties her job might entail, but he was even more upset with himself because the thought of the Sharps using Dana as a sex toy aroused him...a LOT.

Sloan was wearing a sky blue blouse with a simple, but professional looking navy blue knee-length pencil skirt that was slit in the back for ease of movement and accentuated by smoke thigh high hose. He wore his hair in a side part that was loosely braided into an updo. a few stray locks of hair served to frame his face. His feet were encased in the same pair of 3-inch black sling back heels that he had worn the night before.

On his left wrist was a slim-line silver ladies watch and assorted rings adorned his fingers. It was with some trepidation that he had removed his wedding band, but Dana had solved his dilemma by placing it on a silver chain that allowed it to dangle between the C-cup breast forms.

She reassured her husband that if anyone noticed the masculine wedding band, Sloan could claim it was from her late husband. The beauty of this would be that she could rebuff would-be suitors with a story about his recent death and her need for space to deal with her grief.

To cover up Sloan's barely noticeable Adam's apple, she had used a light coral pink scarf that worked very well with the blue and gray ensemble. She had also placed a pair of silver dangle earrings with sky blue stones in his ears. The silver and blue motif were offset by the scarf and his matching coral nails and lip gloss.

Sloan looked every inch the professional woman, including a nice black shoulder bag made of soft faux leather. Inside the bag he carried all of his essentials, cell phone, cosmetics, hairbrush, mirror, wallet, tissues, various cosmetic removers and skin cleaners, hand sanitizer, hair ties, clips, pens, notepad, as well as a few tampons (what woman would be caught dead without emergency tampons?).

He watched the people passing by as he centered his breathing and got himself (herself?) into character.

Chapter Twenty-Three

They had arrived at the studio about thirty minutes before Sloan's appointment. Sloan had signed in at the front gate while a security guard had made a phone call verifying the appointment and issuing a pass. While waiting, Sloan could not help but notice the occasional glances that the middle-aged rent-a-cop aimed at him. It was much different than the professional scrutiny that he had experienced in similar situations in the past.

Dana was bemused to notice that her husband was receiving the lion's share of the attention. Perhaps it was just the fact that Dana already had studio credentials....perhaps. As their eyes met, she saw her husband blush as he realized that they were both thinking in a similar vein.

The Pièce De Résistance had come when he asked to verify Sloan's identification. He had not even batted an eye when he compared Sloan with the picture on the drivers license. granted there was a resemblance, and Sloan was an androgynous name, but the license listed Sloan as M, not F.

As they got back into her car for the drive to the back lot, Dana almost burst out laughing.

"You realize that all you needed to show him was your SAG card?"

Her husband blushed even deeper as he realized his mistake.

"I think I.D. is going to be a problem if I am going to live this role 24/7."

"I agree. Perhaps Ms. Sharp will have some ideas on that."

They parked in Dana's marked spot. She was struck by the way Sloan got out of the car, knees together, swivel to the right, lift upward from the ground. It was almost like he had been doing it all his life. Her reverie was broken when he leaned back in and looked at her bemused expression.

"What?"

"Nothing, sweetie. Just woolgathering."

She got out and locked the car, then walked around it to her husband, looking for any sign of nervousness.

"What????" his tone was somewhat exasperated.

"I'm sorry, but you just look so natural. I mean I know it's you but it is almost like you are a completely different person."

Sloan gave a small snort, "I'm shitting bricks here."

Hearing those words from that mouth gave her a start before Sloan quickly added, "Don't worry, Dana. I said that to let you know that your husband is still in here, but you need to know that in public this is who I have to be, okay?

"It's amazing." She shook her head lightly as if waking herself from a dream.

"Okay, let's get you to that interview"

~o~O~o~

Upon arrival at Danielle Sharp's office, they were asked to wait. The secretary buzzed into the inner sanctum and informed Ms. Sharp that

Dana Taylor was here and that her 10:00 appointment had arrived. A few moments passed before Gabriel Vargas hurried out to greet Dana.

"Hi Dana, what a coincidence. I was just about to head back. Matt sent me over with some papers for Ms. Sharp to sign." He barely spared a glance for Sloan as he continued, "Let's go. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Dana was swept out of the office before she had the chance to say goodbye to her husband. She could not help wondering whether Gabriel knew who Sloan was, or about Danielle's plans, but as she hurried to keep up he gave her no reason to think he might be hiding anything.

He began by filling her in on the timetable for Soft Kill, then spoke about the plans for the upcoming Carnaval party. Gabriel pointed out that she would be assuming a large part of the responsibility for that particular event, as it was supposed to be a farewell party for him, and he couldn't very well be responsible for planning his own party.

She took out her tablet and began taking notes as they crossed the lot toward her office. When they got there, she found her assistant, Beverly looking frazzled behind the desk on her phone.

"She just came in, one moment please."

Beverly looked from Dana to Gabriel and back with a hint of worry.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Taylor, but Raoul is on the phone. Apparently they shipped over the wrong rags from Central and we now have a costume crisis on our hands."

"Beverly, right?" interjected Gabriel, before she could respond.

"Yes, Sir" was the immediate response as the Director's right-hand man took her full attention.

"Deal with it. Unless Ms. Taylor or I tell you otherwise, you are now Production Designer for this project. She will be replacing me, and has complete confidence in your ability."

He then ushered Dana into her own small office past the dumbfounded assistant.

Regaining her composure, Dana asked Gabriel, "What makes you think she can handle the job?"

"Beverly James, Bev to her friends. Fifteen years of experience in over a dozen major films and countless smaller projects. Loves to wear gaudy bright clothes and is a graduate from SMU/Meadows film school. She met you on your first project while you were still at UCLA and has helped to acclimate you to the industry. You have, in turn, been helping her out as your career has taken off. You trust her implicitly, and we both know that she is much better than most people give her credit for."

"WOW"

"It's my job....well....your job, soon", he grinned.

Looking around her office, he smiled. "Better start packing, the moving men will be here in a few minutes."

"Packing?"

"Your new office. My old office." He gave her a crooked smile, but she caught a slight hint of sadness in his eyes.

~o~O~o~

"Miss Taylor?" Sloan's head snapped up from his reverie, "Ms. Sharp will see you now."

Sloan rose and entered Danielle Sharp's office.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The plush carpeting muffled the sound of his heels as Sloan entered the office. His heart was pounding, but he projected an outward calm as he crossed the room to the large mahogany desk. Danielle Sharp watched as Sloan gracefully approached her, drinking in every nuance. This will be fun, she purred to herself as she stood up and rounded the desk to meet him.

"Hello Sloan, I am Danielle Sharp."

"Yes Ms. Sharp, I know. We met at the wrap party for your last film."

As Sloan reached for her hand, she could not help noticing the fluidity of his movements, as well as the fact that he reached out to her with his palm down, grasping her hand lightly with his fingers then releasing it. She placed her left hand on his right shoulder and guided him to the sofa, giving him her best smile.

"Let's get comfortable, shall we?"

As they sat facing each other, the Producer watched his posture and elegant manner. She felt a heat rising as she observed him, closely. She decided to shock him immediately, just to see how he would react.

"So Sloan, Dana tells me that you should be given an audition for Soft Kill. Is she being honest, or is she just blinded by love?"

Sloan's eyes narrowed at the jab. "I cannot speak for my wife, but I am confident in my ability to play this role....I know I can do it."

"Hmmmm", she gave him a non-committal look. Well, I must say that you do look the part; however, we all know that looks can be deceiving."

He held his tongue, choosing silence rather than risk saying the wrong thing. She examined him closely with a critical eye, surprised at his poise. Reaching out to grasp his chin began turning his head left and right.

"Pierced ears.....good. I have seen your head-shots and read your bio. By the way, your agent is an idiot. Were I you I would drop him like a bad habit."

"My agent?" Dave Shirzer had been Sloan's agent since he graduated from college. they rarely spoke, as it was usually Penny, his secretary, that contacted him about auditions. "Dave is a great agent."

Danielle laughed, shaking her head as if amazed at his ignorance.

"You really think so? Look at me."

She grabbed his chin firmly and looked him in the eyes, her deep blue gaze piercing like a knife into his soul. She spoke calmly, like a patient tutor with a not too bright pupil.

"Dave Shirzer is a pimp, you silly girl. He grabs up the cute little insecure movie star wannabes that flock to this town every week seeking fame and fortune. He puts their faces and resumes into the system. He extorts a ton of extraneous fees in their contracts and if by some miracle, one of them gets lucky, he sells their contract to a real agency and makes a tidy profit. If they don't make it big in a hurry, he helps them make ends meet by hooking them up with a guy named Marco Lane. Ever meet Marco? Dark, handsome guy with a Mediterranean accent?"

Sloan started at the mention of Marco. Early on, when he and Dana had been struggling to make ends meet, Dave had indeed introduced Sloan to a friend named Marco that could hook him up with side gigs for extra cash. He had almost taken it, but Dana had picked up more than enough work to keep them afloat.

"So naive," she tut-tutted, sadly. "Marco gets them into the party scene, shoot a little porn, shoot a little smack, then he puts..." she leaned in so close he could feel her breath on his painted lips, "...their cute little asses on the street to work it off."

She leaned back with an impish grin. Sloan wanted to shake his head, deny her claims, but her eyes held him in a firmer grip than her hand.

"Poor baby. I am shocked and amazed that this town hasn't already chewed you up and shat you out." She leaned in and patted his cheek with a soft caress. "You must be either very talented or very lucky." Danielle tilted her head to the side, watching his reaction. "Let us hope, dear girl, that you are both."

It was a complete shock when Sloan realized that she had risen and was pressing a button at her desk. He had been too dumbstruck to move. Her gaze was almost hypnotic, and he was rapidly becoming frightened.

The door opened, and her secretary peeked in. "Yes, Ms. Sharp?"

"Coffee please, and some mixed fruit."

"Yes, Ms. Sharp!"

The door closed, and Sloan started to rise, not sure if he had been dismissed.

"Sit down."

He complied but watched her warily. She intensely watched him as if formulating what she wanted to say. After a couple minutes, she spoke again.

"We have a monumental task ahead of us, my dear. in order to accomplish that task, you must put yourself into my hands. You must trust me and obey me in all things. You must follow every instruction, no matter how silly it might seem. Do you understand?"

He shook his head, "No ma'am, I don't understand. What exactly am I being asked to do?"

Danielle sat on the edge of her desk and gave Sloan a look as if he was something the puppy left on the carpet. Just as she was about to speak, there was a light tap on the door, and it opened to a trio of caterers who brought in fruit, juice, coffee, pastries, and a large tray table. After they had set it up and withdrawn, she chose her words carefully.

"My dear girl, I am going to train you to be a complete woman. I am your Henry Higgins and you are my Eliza Doolittle. You will obey me in all things and I will help you prove to my husband that Dana is right about your talent."

"Obey in what way?"

"In every way."

"It sounds a little....it sounds like slavery"

"I promise you that I will not abuse your trust, as long as you are an obedient and diligent girl for me. Of course, if you fail to do so, you will face consequences...but, you are always free to leave at any time."

"If I chose to leave, what would happen to Dana?"

"This bargain does not involve Dana. It is between you and I. I have papers prepared for you to sign. Take them home and go over them with your wife. If you feel that it is too much to ask, do not sign them and you will be on your own. You look convincing, and maybe you can earn the audition without my help, but I don't think that you can ever truly understand the character without it."

"Papers?"

"We will get to them before you leave, but, for now, let's have a little brunch."

They sat at the table and Danielle dipped a strawberry in cream before lifting it to her lips. Her gaze was fixed on his as he watched her tease it with her tongue and lips, before finally biting down on it.

For some reason, the sight made his cock begin to swell as she dipped another strawberry and lifted it to his mouth.

"Strawberry?"

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was a long shot, but considering his options, Thomas Dern felt that it was a risk well worth taking. It would require a team, and it would require discipline. Most of all, it would require complete professionalism and dedication.

He looked at Brandin, and once again considered whether he should cut his losses. The young actor looked like shit. His hair was stringy, eyes swollen and red, his tan barely hid a deathly pallor that was exacerbated by the dark hollows of his eyes.

He spent several minutes watching his client fidget in the chair before speaking up.

"This is it, Brandin. No more chances. No more excuses. You have only this slim hope and if you fuck this up, we are done. Period. End of story."

Brandin Jessup started at the profane word as if his agent had physically struck him. Thomas Dern never swore. He had been Brandin's agent since he was a child. He had been a father, confidante, mentor, advisor, and confessor. In all those years Brandin knew that he had never seen him express a single obscenity. That was one of the reasons he was called, The Mormon.

In all those years, Brandin Jessup had also been a right royal pain-in-the-ass, but Thomas had always corrected him without anger, and without any form of chastisement. The worst expression he had used toward his wayward client was to express disappointment. Brandin had always been wise enough to clean up his act....at least for a while....and it had always paid off for him.

He felt an involuntary shudder at the possibility that he might lose that relationship. That Thomas might walk away from him and abandon Brandin to his own devices. He knew he needed Thomas Dern on his side.

"Look...Thomas...I know that I get a little off the rails, sometimes. I appreciate all that you have done for me, I really do. I know that I owe you a lot and that some of the things I have done have made you doubt my commitment....doubt me. I will do whatever it takes to regain your trust."

Thomas Dern eyed his client up and down with a look of distaste.

"We need to clean you up....and not in that country club. I have a place up near Big Bear, I am sending you and George up there tonight. You will be met by some doctors and other specialists who will detox, and condition you. You will follow every instruction they give you. You will take nothing. No cell phone, no electronic devices, no clothing, no women....NOTHING. If you fail to follow these instructions in the slightest way, I am dropping you as a client."

"What'll I be doing in my spare time?"

"Becoming a woman."

Brandin looked at his agent and sudden recognition made him nod.

"Okay....but how will that help if..."

"The Sharp's will be having a Carnaval party in a couple of weeks. Brandin Jessup is no longer invited; however, Celia Cole has an invitation."

"Who's Celia Cole?"

"One of my clients. I just managed to land her a part in a cable network film project. She departs for Belgrade in a little over a week for a location shoot. She will also be at the party, provided you work very, very hard and do everything you are told."

Brandin Jessup smiled, broadly. "Yes, Sir!"

Thomas signaled to George, who had been lounging near the door. The burly bodyguard had been working Brandin Jessup's security team for three years, but he didn't work for Brandin Jessup. He was contracted and paid by Jessup through a minor production company called Brand N Iron Films, a stupid name if you asked George, but the pay was good.

His actual employer, who leased the bodyguard to Jessup's company, was a security company that was owned by a shell company that was owned by another corporation in the Cayman Islands. He was never sure whether that company was actually owned by Thomas Dern, or if Dern was just the point man. Either way, he took his orders from Dern and reported back everything that happened in Brandin Jessup's star-studded, sexually-charged, fucked-up excuse for a life.

George Hadley didn't really care who was calling the shots. Jessup got him into some wild shit, but the fringe benefits were well worth the hassle of playing nursemaid to a 31-year-old adolescent. He got lots of kinky bitches, quality booze, a good health and dental plan, and enough excitement to keep him interested. All the security guys he worked with were ex-military or ex-law enforcement. They were a good bunch, and for a 43-year-old ex-Ranger, that was good enough.

He crossed over to Brandin and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon and let's get this over with so we can hit the road, boss"

Brandin gave him a look of incomprehension.

"Place your hands on the chair and pull your feet back and spread 'em."

"Wha....?"

Thomas spoke up, "Just do as you're told, Brandin."

What followed was the most humiliating experience of the young movie star's life. Sure, he had been arrested...and searched...but he was always drunk, stoned, or both. Cold sober, in the middle of the day, with the sun shining in through a plate glass window overlooking the City of Angels, it was a million times worse.

George began patting the stunned actor down. He then pulled on a set of latex gloves and poked around inside his mouth before ordering him to strip and grab his ankles. He calmly examined every inch and every orifice of Brandin Jessup's body before announcing, "He's clean. Sorry, I had to do that, boss."

Brandin looked at him with a shell-shocked expression, noting the cold, dispassionate eyes of his bodyguard.

George held his gaze a few moments until the actor finally lowered his own.

"Well, Sir?" the guard asked. "Perhaps we should go. It's a long drive to Big Bear."

Thomas Dern walked his client to the elevator, taking the time to go over his plan in detail. He made it clear that for the next two weeks, Brandin Jessup was to obey every instruction. He would have no authority at all. His name, his reputation, and his fame meant nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

"Just remember, Brandin...if you decide you just can't do it....for any reason...say the word. Got it?"

"I won't, Thomas. I promise I will do whatever it takes."

As they emerged from the elevator into the garage, a car was waiting with the rear passenger door open and two men on each side scanning the area. The car was a well-used Ford Explorer with dark tinted windows.

"I know what you're thinking, Brandin. It isn't a limo or a luxury sedan. You are going to be hiding out. You will be incognito for the next few weeks and nobody must know where you are, or what you are doing. You do not want the paparazzi to get pictures of you in drag. Not yet, at least. We want your unveiling to be a surprise."

He smiled coldly at his client.

Brandin nodded his understanding and shook his agent's hand before George eased him inside the darkened SUV. One of the security guys got into the passenger seat as the other got in behind the wheel. As the truck pulled out of the garage and headed for the freeway, Brandin felt like he was in a mob film.

'I wonder if I'll be sleeping with the fishes', he mused.

He almost chuckled at the imagery, when he felt George put a vice-like grip on his arm.

"Look at me, Sir. I need you to understand what we are doing here. This is for your safety and security." He paused for effect. "Right now, you are no longer my boss. You are just a client...OK?"

The grip on his arm hurt, and Brandin wasn't sure how OK he was, but he nodded all the same.

"Mr. Dern will have people staying with us. Nobody will be leaving the compound, at all. Security will be airtight. We have all the supplies that we need and every single person involved in this operation is gonna be there for the duration. Mr. Dern said 'no contact' so that's how it will be. If I see you even poking your head out a window, we close up shop. Understand?"

Brandin nodded more vigorously, and squirmed, as the hand was beginning to hurt him. The burly bodyguard released his arm.

"Sorry. Just remember, if you come to a point where you realize you can't hack it....say the word. OK?"

Brandin flushed with anger, briefly.

"NO....I won't quit. I can do this."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dana was scrambling just to keep up. She had always prided herself on her ability to organize. She had a very analytical mind that was constantly sorting and sifting data as she accumulated it. Growing up, many of her fellow students, as well as quite a few teachers, had believed that she was just a little bit dumb.

The fact was that she was very intelligent, but she was also a plodder. She might know an answer, but spend a long time considering alternatives. She could spend hours on her homework assignments, getting everything just so. It was not just part of her personality, but something that she often used to her advantage. She could hide in her room doing homework and avoid seeing her stepfather....always a plus.

Her shoulder-length hair was somewhat tousled as she and Gabriel went over the script and discussed the shooting schedule. She was amazed at his ability to shift focus from one random issue to another totally unrelated one. He reminded her of a juggler, as he dealt with various members of the production company, film crew, specialists, caterers, and the multitude of other people that seemed to desperately need something right now.

Another thing that she began to notice about the young PA was the feminine grace that he exhibited at all times.

He wasn't effeminate, although many of the people he dealt with were. He was just very...feminine. It wasn't anything in particular. He had beautiful features, though not particularly slender. She began to wonder what he looked like in a dress. She visualized him as a firmly voluptuous woman.

During a respite, she idly wondered about his personal relationship with the Sharps. They sat in their shared office having coffee. Matt Sharp had been in a couple of times in the morning to check on her, but had left for a meeting shortly after noon, and had yet to return. She flushed when Gabriel noticed the way she was looking at him and smirked as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"A lot to process, huh?"

She pulled herself together, "Yeah. I knew you guys had a lot to do, but it seems as though you are wired into everything. I don't know if I can handle it like you can."

He eyed her for a moment, then softly said, "That's not what I meant. I was talking about the Sharps and me....and how it might impact you."

Before she could reply, he added, "As to the business stuff, you won't be able to handle it like me. You will have to handle it like you."

"I'm not sure that I can...I mean, I always believed that I could, but after today...."

"Today was throwing you into the deep end. It was a test, of sorts....well....not so much a test, as a proving."

"...a proving....of what?"

"That Ms. Sharp was right about you. She has an almost infallible way of reading people, developing and nurturing talent. She has had her eye on you since you began working here."

"....nurturing...."

The word hung there between them. She was dying to ask the question. Dying to ask, but she was too terrified to bring it up. Instead, it sat there like an elephant in the room as she attempted to dance around it, without acknowledging its presence.

"Dana, I would like you to understand something before you explode. I love them. I seriously mean that in every way I can define the word. They are not what you may think they are. They are strong and very domineering in their way, but they are never abusive. In many ways, serving them has saved my life."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm from the Philippine Islands. My father sent me here to study business and then work with him in his businesses. He would never tolerate me as I am, he would probably kill me."

"But that's ridiculous, why would your father do that?"

"Because I am not the man he wants me to be, and I never will be. I never can be, even if I wanted to."

"What do you mean? I'm sure a lot of fathers have high expectations for their sons, but surely...."

Gabriel smiled sadly, "Dana, I am not his son, not really. I am transgendered and that is something that he could never in a million years accept."

"Oh my God, you could star in Soft Kill!"

She immediately covered her mouth as if to try to pull the words back inside as soon as they escaped, but Gabriel just laughed.

"I know. Funny how things work out, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Gabriel. That was a stupidly rude thing to say. I have no filtering system, sometimes."

"It's okay, really."

"So....your father doesn't know about...?"

"Nobody in my family knows. Not anymore, at least. My mother knew, and was very supportive, but she died when I was fourteen."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, but it was very difficult for me for a long time. I still think about her a lot. In fact, you remind me of her."

"Me?"

He opened his tablet and pulled up several photographs. They showed a slim young-looking Filipina woman who bore a strong resemblance to Dana, except her skin was a bit darker. In each photograph, she radiated a sense of joy.

"She seems so healthy and happy in the pictures. How did she die?"

"Heart attack." his eyes glistened. "It must have hit her suddenly. I was at school. She told the maid that she felt a little tired and was going to take a nap. An hour later the maid looked in on her and she didn't appear to be breathing. The hospital called it a myocardial infarction." Gabriel shrugged. "After that, I knew I had to get out of there. I convinced my father to send me to prep school in America when I was sixteen. That experience was hell all by itself, but at least, I was out of the PI."

"I went to Stanford on scholarship, struggled with my self-identity, and finally met a friend who helped me get into a gender studies program. Of course, I could never tell my father about that, but he rarely saw me, as by then he had a new wife and lots of other things to keep him busy."

"I was afraid to pull the trigger on SRS. I mean, I knew what I wanted to be, but I was terrified of telling my father. I was becoming self-destructive. I was hiding my emotions behind a haze of drugs, and getting into some weird stuff. I knew I would never be able to deal with my father, so I was becoming resigned to the gray little box that my life would become. So I figured that at least I could ease the pain a little bit on the way. I got offered several internships, and one was here. I figured Hollywood was the perfect place to get wasted and party until I either OD'd, or graduated, whichever came first. Then I met the Sharps."

His voice took on a reverential tone.

"Mistress looked into my soul and helped me see myself as someone of value. I did not become their slave that summer. I wanted to be, I begged them not to make me go back to Stanford. They were firm and I folded. I went back and counted the days. When I came back after graduation, I knew what I wanted. I bought a collar and presented it to them the first night. I have never been happier."

"But...you're leaving..."

"Not by choice. I am going because they want me to study in Europe. there is a burgeoning market of films in eastern Europe that they are thinking of investing in. They also have another, a more personal task for me, but I can't talk about that."

Dana spent the drive home digesting Gabriel's story and wondering what Sloan's day had been like.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Before we begin, Sloan...we need to pick a name for you."

"Why can't I just use my own name? I know it can be used by a man or a woman."

She sighed, "Silly girl...think for a moment. My husband must never be told that you are Sloan Taylor, husband of Dana Taylor, and an actor trying to get a foot in his door. Have you any idea how many people try to worm their way into his presence in the hope that he will give them a part?"

She frowned at him, a look he would get used to in the days ahead. Her frown conveyed a mixture of sadness, disappointment, and frustration. It made him feel like a dull-witted schoolboy who got called into the headmaster's office for cheating on a test.

"I know what you have heard about us. We have a reputation for some rather unorthodox proclivities in both our public and private lives. I am sure that you have heard that we both enjoy some bondage and other kinky sexual acts with many of the people we work with."

He wasn't sure how to respond so he just said, "Okay"

"We are both very dominating personalities. We like to be in control and have to manipulate the things around us to maintain the illusion of control because we are each intelligent enough to understand that control is just an illusion. Nobody ever has control, not really. We just struggle to create that illusion. Understand?"

"I think so" he nodded

"Films are a perfect outlet for us. We manipulate the cast, the crew, the script, everything into a set of mini-scenarios in which we feel as if we are in control. When things go wrong, as they often do, we need to regroup and take charge. For Matt, that means that if a scene messes up and begins to frustrate him, he needs to step back and play with one of our subs so that he can regain that feeling of control. Once he regains that feeling, he can resume the film."

"...subs?"

"Submissive people...pets...sexual play toys...whatever you like to call them."

Sloan gulped at the matter-of-fact way that she described it to him...all the while feeling himself becoming aroused. "Uhmmm..."

She smirked at his blush. "No darling, we are not the type to force a submissive little morsel like yourself to serve us. We are much more insidious than that."

He gave her a look of confusion as his blush deepened.

"Come, come, you silly girl...I am trying to be bluntly honest here. While we certainly enjoy the idea of introducing new people into our fun and games, we do not need to force anyone to play with us."

She made a low, sexy giggle at his obvious discomfort.

"The point of my telling you this is to point out that we have had more than our share of offers from actors and actresses who are looking for a helping hand to boost their careers. How many gorgeous and sexy men and women in this town do you think would be willing to commit unspeakable acts of depravity for the chance we are giving you?"

Sloan considered her statement. He had to agree that there would be hundreds, maybe even thousands.

"Just ask your agent..." She made a distasteful face, "...if his buddy Marco has anything for you. I bet you a thousand dollars that he will get you ass-fucked within a week. I know pretty much everyone even vaguely connected to this industry. Marco even approached Matt about directing and/or financing some rather...esoteric films for selected clients of his. That's one of the downsides of our lifestyle, people think that anything that is not mainstream is porn, and anyone not mainstream is as twisted and depraved as they are."

She snapped immediately back to the business at hand.

"So, what should we name you?"

She threw out several choices before selecting Taylor Sloane with an e. She felt that this would be easy for him to respond to, and would make it easier to cover up if he introduced himself as either Sloan or Taylor since it would be easy for him to cover the faux pas as either a first or last name. He was surprisingly pleased with her choice.

Sloan then spent the remainder of his day being scolded and molded by Danielle Sharp. It was very trying, and she was a severe task-mistress. She lectured him on proper ways to move, sit, walk, stand (pose really), speak, gesture, every minor nuance of appearing feminine.

Sloan had never really studied the female form and mannerisms before. As a male actor, he never really felt the need to. It was surprising for him to note that so many of them were a counterbalance to those of men. A man offered a firm handshake and solid greeting with eye contact. It was as much a challenge between them as a greeting. They held themselves back and sized each other up, almost as if they were squaring off as competitors.

Women, by comparison, offered a light brush of fingers, lots of physical contact, maybe an air kiss. They spoke with mild and soft pleasantries while their eyes danced around, encompassing the entire person. They looked for, and found, common ground, interests, and shared feelings.

When he truly examined them objectively, he realized that men did not so much greet each other, as confront each other. That is not to say that women were not sizing each other up, nor would he say that they were non-competitive. It was just widely different in the way that they approached each other.

In many ways, it was as if men met and said 'I am ready for animosity, but will settle for friendship' while women said 'I am ready for friendship, but will settle for animosity'. They may each get the same results in the end, but they approached it from different directions.

It became clear to him that this counterpoint approach continued through almost all mannerisms. Something as simple as how the hands were used while speaking, the inclination of the head, a raised eyebrow, carried widely different meanings when used by a man or a woman. In many ways, these nuances complimented each other. They fit.

Sloan had always been cognizant of these things on a subconscious level but had never really consciously examined them before. Danielle Sharp forced him to examine them now, and she was harsh in her critique as she demanded that he practice various subtle mannerisms until she was satisfied.

Once, in the beginning, he became irritated with her and allowed it to show. She had just corrected his posture with a scathing verbal rebuke, as he walked across the room for the umpteenth time, and he actually glowered at her before biting off an angry retort.

"Don't you dare give me that look, Missy!" she thundered as she strode angrily to face him. "My time for a single hour is far more valuable than you make in a month! Dana vouched for your professionalism, your talent, and your commitment. I will not waste my time on an ungrateful, petulant little bitch who cannot even try to validate my sufferance with even a modicum of her own effort!"

Danielle seemed to tower over Sloan as he felt almost diminished by her looming presence. His anger vanished in fear, then in embarrassment as she questioned his acting skills. He knew that every word she had spoken was true. He might have reason to question her agenda, lord knew he had lots of questions about that, but he had no questions about the rest. She may have ulterior motives, but he truly felt that he needed her help to get this role.

"I...I'm sorry, Miss...Ms. Sharp"

She looked at him as if he were a worm, her gaze seemed to measure him, and find him wanting. He could not help feeling as if she considered him unworthy of her efforts.

"Do it again, Taylor. And hold your head up, this time...MY GOD, stop swaying like a drunken sailor.....LADYLIKE!"

Chapter Twenty-Eight

By the end of the day, Sloan's body was aching, and his feet were killing him. 'How can people wear heels all day long and not end up in a wheelchair?', he wondered. Danielle had worn him out physically and emotionally.

By the end of the afternoon, as darkness descended through the windows of her office, he was responding eagerly to even the slightest hint of praise. His reactions had run an emotional gamut for most of the day as he was both attracted and repulsed by Danielle Sharp's personality. On the one hand, he found her to be mercilessly exacting. She had demanded perfection and was completely unwilling to accept anything less. Sloan had always considered himself to be a perfectionist where his craft was concerned, but she forced him to push himself to even greater effort. When he failed to achieve her standards, her rebuke was almost physically painful.

Not that she actually struck him. No, she was not physically abusive, but she did give him detailed accounts of what she would do to him if he had been one of her 'subs', as she called them.

"MY GOD, how inept can you possibly be?" she remonstrated, on one occasion. "I swear if you were one of my girls I would bend you over my desk and spank your little ass with a leather strap until you squealed like a little pig!"

He found her polarity extremely arousing, and many times during their day, she had been almost flirtatious as he practiced with her. She was also very tactile, touching him briefly as she hovered around, correcting his posture or demonstrating how to move 'just so'. He also found that when she got into his personal space, her scent, her touch, and her sexual vibrancy made it very difficult for him to concentrate, or to hide the burgeoning evidence of her effect on him.

More than once he had felt the need to excuse himself to the restroom in order to 'get a handle' on his problem, as it were. Each time, she had found some way to put a damper on his feelings as if she knew exactly what he was trying to do. In fact, when he finally did get a restroom break, she had sent him with her secretary to get lunch. Sloan had been forced to use the ladies room and been frustrated when Bobbie, the secretary, had accompanied him.

When Ms. Sharp had finally announced that the lessons were done for the day, Sloan began gathering his things. He suddenly realized that he had not seen his wife since the morning. He had ridden into the studio with her, and was now wondering if she was still there, or had she already gone home? He felt a momentary panic as he wondered about what Dana and Matt Sharp had been up to while Danielle Sharp had been heightening Sloan's own sexual frustration.

Taking out his phone, Sloan hit Dana's number and she didn't pick up, the call going to her voice mail. he left a message, then fretted over what to do.

Noticing his unease, Danielle picked up her phone and hit a number.

"Hi baby, is Dana with you? Her...husband just came by the studio looking for her."

"Uh-huh"

She listened for a few seconds.

"OH? I didn't know about that. No-no. I'm sure it will be fine"

She listened some more.

"OK baby, I'll tell him...just a sec..."

She held the phone to her chest.

"Matt says that she is with Gabriel at the moment dealing with some scheduling issues. He said the three of them are supposed to be meeting for a working dinner at 9:00. and she should be home around 11:00. Apparently she left her keys with Bobbie so you can get home and he says not to worry as he will drop Dana off after dinner, okay?"

Sloan didn't feel okay, but he was clueless about how to respond. He stared at her dully. Danielle held his gaze for a few moments, then put the phone back to her ear.

"Baby? That's fine, but ask Dana to call her husband as soon as she has a moment. No, darling. He isn't upset.
I'm sure he understands that things are going to be hectic for a while. Uh huh. love you, too. Kisses to Gabi, I will be pretty late as I'm going to Gemma's tonight. I know. I will, and you take extra special care of her cute little ass, you hear me?"

Danielle laughed, sending shivers down Sloan's spine.

"Fuck her hard and make her squirm for me, you hot stud...ciao!"

She placed her phone back down and pressed the intercom, her secretary opened the door.

"Yes, Ms. Sharp?"

"Did Dana Taylor leave some keys with you, Bobbie?"

"Yes Miss, she said to give them to her....friend, Ms. Sloane before she left. I also have Ms. Sloane's ID badge and the envelope that you asked for."

"Thank you, Bobbie, leave them on your desk. She will be right out to pick them up. Have my car brought around and you may leave for the day."

"Yes, Ms. Sharp"

As Sloan stood there, at a loss for words, Danielle gave him a sympathetic expression.

"Taylor"

He started slightly as she broke the spell of numbness that seemed to have enveloped him.

"Taylor, my sweet girl, look at me and listen."

He met her eyes with his own, though her icy blue orbs were clear, his own were puffy and somewhat blurred.

"I know that your mind is filled with every imaginable erotic and sexual innuendo that it can come up with, but please believe that nothing could be further from the truth. I want you to go to Bobbie's desk and pick up Dana's keys as well as the other things that are there for you. While you are out there, have a word with your agent about his mishandling of your career." She gave Sloan a meaningful look. "I need to make a call. Be back here in fifteen minutes. Do you understand? "

Sloan nodded, then did as he was told. When he returned, after a stressful chat with his former agent, he found Danielle sitting on the sofa sipping a glass of wine as she waved for him to sit down opposite her. She seemed to consider her words carefully before she spoke.

"My husband could snap his fingers and have any woman he wants, and most men as well. We both know this is true, right?"

Sloan hesitated, his face twisting a bit in anguish before he finally nodded.

"This is a promise from me...from both of us, really. Neither Matt, nor I will ever do anything to your wife, or to you, that you do not want us to. Understand?"

Before he could form an answer, she made a small frown, "No. Wait a moment. Let me re-phrase that. We will do nothing to either of you that you do not both beg us to do."

She cocked her head and her lips curled slightly as though she had found the exact right thing to say.

"Now, do you understand?"

Sloan hesitated, then nodded slightly, although he groaned inwardly as her words seemed to open up a veritable minefield of possible dangers.

~o~O~o~

When Sloan arrived home, he had yet to hear from Dana. He removed his make-up before taking a long, hot bath. Despite Danielle Sharp's reassurances, he could not help the way his mind scattered onto the tangent of every erotic and depraved option that he could imagine.

As he soaked in the steaming bath, he submerged his head beneath the water and felt almost as if he were drowning. It was as if the bathtub were an ocean and he was struggling to remain afloat. Several times he considered calling or texting Dana, twice he even went so far as to reach for the phone.

Each time, he remembered the one-sided call between Danielle and Matt Sharp. He did not want to add pressure to her or do anything that might jeopardize this opportunity for her. he knew that he only had two choices. he could trust his wife or panic. If he panicked, he would most likely lose her. If he trusted her and she betrayed him, their marriage might not survive, either.

His biggest fear was also a source of guilt. What if they both allowed themselves to be drawn into this frightening, but exciting and evocative world? Could they ever hold their marriage together if they allowed themselves to enter into a relationship with the older, dominant couple? He desperately needed to talk about it with his wife, but he was so afraid of how she would react, especially if she knew about the deeper feelings that were troubling him.

He completed his bath and idly rubbed in moisturizer as his mind continued to wrestle with his dilemma. After putting on a soft chemise, he slipped into bed with his mind a maelstrom of emotions, fears, and desires.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was almost midnight when Dana arrived home. It had been a whirlwind day for her as she familiarized herself with her new duties at Dark Fantasy. The logistics of making a film were something that she had thought that she understood, but the associated problems were compounded exponentially when the film in question was a big-budget motion picture. It was tedious, demanding, exhausting, and exhilarating all at the same time.

Pressing harder on her mind was the fact that she knew that she and Sloan were being groomed by the Sharps for a lot more than a job. She had barely had contact with Matt Sharp before the dinner meeting, and he had remained dispassionately professional in every exchange, but she could feel the tension, the charged atmosphere, that permeated her being when she was around him. The feeling was almost suffocating.

During the day, Gabriel had been both accommodating and exasperating whenever the topic turned to the Sharps' personal life. It was easy for him to elaborate on the broader aspects of their lifestyle, making it sound almost mainstream. He loved them, he loved the things that he had learned from them, both personally and professionally. What was lacking was any insight into their personalities beyond their professional lives and their sexual lifestyle choice. One thing was abundantly clear, he was completely loyal to his 'Master and Mistress', as he referred to them.

Dana unlocked the door, turning to thank Matt for the ride home as he stood close behind her. He didn't crowd her, but his presence seemed to do so as she had to fight the fluttering of her heart. He had been a perfect gentleman all evening. While she had tried to make idle chat on the drive home, her mind seemed sluggish and detached after the grueling day.

"Thank you, Mr. Sharp. You didn't have to walk me up."

"It isn't safe for a woman to walk alone this late, it was no bother."

"Thank you..." she repeated, dumbly. "...I really appreciate everything..."

She lost the thread and took a deep breath, which was a huge mistake as she was inundated by his masculine scent.

"Dana, I have three things I need to tell you." He held her with his gaze. "First, I am completely confident in your ability to fulfill your duties in every way."

She shivered as she considered which duties he was referring to. He made a sardonic smile as if reading her mind.

"I mean your duties as my assistant, my dear."

She blushed scarlet.

"Second, I am looking forward to building a strong working relationship with you, as I believe you have the ability to make your own name in this business."

Holding her gaze, steadily, he raised one eyebrow until she nodded her understanding.

"Lastly, I do not want you to dwell too much on the other things that you have learned about my wife, and myself. Whatever you might think of our lifestyle, we do not impose our will on those who do not specifically ask us to." He chuckled, "No pressure, okay?"

She struggled to form a response but realized by his look that he was expecting her to say something.

"Um...yes sir...."

His face lit up with a megawatt smile. "Good girl!"

As she began to close the door, he added, "Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. Danielle asked me to have you call her as soon as you get home. OK?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you!"

"Good night, then."

~o~O~o~

At that very moment, across town, another mind was busy contemplating loyalty. Bobbie Deihl had been working for Danielle Sharp for almost a year. She liked her job. It was interesting to see a side of the movie business that most people were unaware of. She saw, and heard, things that would shock most of the patrons that attended the studio's films. This insider knowledge was often valuable, but it also tended to have a very limited shelf-life.

The source of her current dilemma was 'Taylor Sloane', the new personal assistant that Danielle Sharp had suddenly hired. While Taylor might be able to pass as a woman, Bobbie had been the one to file the HR information and credentials he/she would need. The hiring of an apparently transitioning transsexual was not that big of a deal in the film industry, but the circumstances surrounding the hire were very noteworthy.

1. Danielle had not needed a PA before this week, as she and her husband shared Gabriel/Gabi. Bobbie was aware of the relationship there and had profited, at times, by sharing a few salacious details with an assortment of gossip rags, for a nominal fee, of course.

2. The Sharps were making a film about a transsexual/transgendered hit man. That could justify the hire as a background consultant to share insight for realism in the film, but the third reason canceled out that idea.

3. The Sharps had fired Brandin Jessup from a film that was about to go into production. You never went into production without all your major players lined up. Oh sure, you could shoot around an actor that had an injury or illness, or one who had been delayed by some other crisis, but you already knew who the actor was. In this case, no other actors had even auditioned.

4, There was no evidence that the company was putting the project on hold. Quite the opposite. It was not that unusual for a film project that ran into a serious problem during pre-production to be shelved then dusted off and possibly re-shelved again over a number of years. The industry was all about timing, having the right director, script, cast, and crew all available at the same time. In this case, the company seemed completely invested in Soft Kill.

The most obvious answer was that they had chosen Sloan Taylor (she had had little trouble pulling his resume and SAG-AFTRA info by typing it into the studio database) to play the role. Since nothing had, as yet, been officially announced about it, it should be extremely valuable information. Her only real dilemma was not so much one of loyalty, as it was of placing a monetary value upon it.

"I may know who is replacing Brandin Jessup in Soft Kill."

She left the same voice message with several gossip columnists, asking them how much they were willing to pay for the name of the actor chosen to replace Brandin Jessup in Soft Kill. As her phone lit up with the first call, she thought to herself, 'Let the bidding begin.'

Chapter Thirty

As she put the phone down, Dana took a few moments to breathe. Things seemed to be happening so fast. Her life felt like a roller coaster and all she could see were dangerous curves, steep drops, and agonizing climbs ahead. How had she let it get this far? Why had she let her own dark desires take control of her life?

She undressed in silence, watching her feminized husband as he slept. She placed her clothing in the dry cleaning bag and her lingerie in the clothes hamper before removing her make-up. After applying moisturizer, she stepped into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid with her head in her hands.

She loved Sloan, totally and completely. The feelings that she had toward the Sharps were a different thing completely. It wasn't love, but it was a burning desire that she could not control. What to do?

She stifled a sob as she reached a decision. She knew that she had to be totally honest with her husband. She had to unmask that dark insidious creature that gripped her soul. She had to look into his eyes and let him know the depths of her betrayal. She realized that she would probably lose her husband over this, what husband could ever love something as vile as the real Dana Midkiff, but he had the right to know. She had selfishly made decisions for Sloan's own good while knowing that she was actually doing was indulging her own dark desires.

As she struggled to stifle the sound of her sobs, she almost had a heart attack at the knock, then the voice that accompanied the opening door.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

Looking up into Sloan's eyes, she openly wept, chest heaving, as Sloan enveloped her in his arms, their small breasts crushing against each other.

"Sloan...I...I'm...so sorry...."

He stiffened only slightly as his mind jumped to the most obvious conclusion. 'Did she have sex with Matt Sharp?' He felt immediately aroused and repulsed, both at the same time. He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes with his own.

"Tell me what happened."

"I...I have...betrayed you...betrayed us."

"With whom?" His tone was so calm, yet his eyes bored into hers.

"Huh?"

"Who was it? Matt Sharp? Gabriel Vargas?"

She shook her head as his words forced her to focus.

"Sloan, what are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

Her eyes lit with sudden understanding. "Oh My God...you think I slept with them?"

It was Sloan's turn to look confused. "Well...you said..."

"I'm sorry, baby. I haven't slept with anyone else....yet."

The qualifying remark hit him like a punch to the gut. "Yet?"

"Ok baby, let me say what I need to tell you, okay? After I am finished, you can...well...the rest will be up to you."

She lead him into their small living room and sat him on the couch while she sat in a small dinette chair across from him. He had tried to convince her to sit beside him, but she felt the need for space. After a few moments hesitation, she began to speak.

"You know that my father died when I was a kid, and we had a rough time getting by....."

She proceeded to lay herself bare for the first time in her life. She shared the way Rich Midkiff ingratiated himself into her family. How he played the doting daddy in public but had a dark secret behind closed doors. Dana explained the way he began to abuse her. It started with little things like a lingering touch, eye contact, a special treat, or praise. Things that could easily be dismissed as the appropriate interaction between a parent and child.

As time passed, those little things became more aggressive, tickling, rough horseplay, accidentally brushing hands on her budding nipples.

Never anything that could be pointed to as 'crossing a line,' but they made her uncomfortable.

Dana's mother worked as a dental technician and Rich had a job installing security systems for cars, homes, and businesses. While her hours were set in stone, his hours offered a lot more flexibility. She vividly recalled the first time he sexually assaulted her.

-She was 13, and school was for the summer. Summers in Texas can be brutal. About mid-morning, the home a/c went out. She had called her mom, who had then called Rich. He had some free time between installations and said he would check it out and call a repair tech if it was something bigger than he could deal with. When he got to the house, Dana was sweltering in front of a fan, listening to her iPod, and wearing nothing but a mini tee and short shorts.

She didn't know how long he had been there, staring at her, but she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her step-father standing in the kitchen doorway with a frightening look in his eyes. -

She shared with her husband how he had accused her of dressing like a slut, and parading around nearly naked. He had forced her over his knee and spanked her...hard. By the time he finished, she was crying, but she was also humiliated by the wet response between her thighs.

Before she knew what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth as he fondled her. When it was over, he blamed her. He accused her of being a slut and flaunting herself at him. He told her that if she ever said a word to anyone, he would kill her and her mother.

From this began almost five years of systematic abuse, during which she became a semi-voluntary participant. She would argue that she was being coerced, but he would constantly point out the little things that she felt compelled to do as if she were choosing to do them. For example, if he took his cock out, she would fall to her knees and start licking the tip, knowing that she would be physically forced to do it if she hesitated, he would mention that only a true cock loving slut would suck it that well.

As the years went by, she began to create a duality within herself. One Dana was immersed in school to the exclusion of anything but theater. The other Dana was a slut who grew more and more passionate about the things he did to her and rationalizing the physical pleasure by saying she had no choice, all the while knowing in her heart that she liked it.

She had to confess that her relationship with Rich Midkiff had fostered a deep-seated animosity toward men. This had forced her to withdraw even further, socially. All the while, she had tried to suppress this side of herself, the dark and ugly side, when she got to college. She had met Sloan and for the first time, she met a man that she could feel safe and loved with. A man who gave out of love rather than feeding his own lusts.

She sobbed out her unworthiness and held him back when he tried to offer comfort.

"Please, Sloan....there is more."

She then told him of her manipulation by Danielle Sharp. How she had been coerced into helping Danielle feminize Sloan. How she had realized their agenda but had rationalized her participation by saying she was just helping her husband reach his dream. She finally confessed to Sloan how her judgment had been clouded by her eager excitement at the prospect of being used by the alpha couple.

"So...are you saying that you want a..." he paused, rephrasing his question.

"What exactly are you saying, Dana Are you leaving me?"

"Sloan, I love you. I know in the depths of my heart that I do, but I also know in my heart that there is something about them that....that calls to that dark ugly thing inside of me."

"Is there anything else you need to say to me? Any other dark hidden secrets?"

She hung her head, and whispered, "No baby, I just am so sorry."

He stood and reached out, drawing her to her feet before wrapping her in his warm embrace.

"We all have secrets, baby. Maybe it's time for me to tell you mine."

Chapter Thirty-One

"Thank you, very much. I am sure that we will both benefit from this. However, let me reassure that the value of doing business with me is much smaller than the detriment of crossing me. It would be..." he paused for effect, "...unfortunate if you or one of your associates were to burn me on this."

He listened for a few moments.

"Yes, I agree, but I like to have clarity in all of my business dealings."

He ended the call without further comment and considered whether or not to make a call of his own, finally deciding to give the matter some consideration, first.

Thomas Dern placed the phone back on its cradle and gazed idly into the middle distance, deep in thought. The information had cost him a pretty penny, and there was no way to guarantee that another source might not leak it to the press before he accomplished anything. So how could he use this information to his advantage?

There were several things that needed his consideration. Once the story broke, this Sloan Taylor person was going to be big news. If that news broke, Brandin's chances of getting back into Soft Kill were becoming minimal, at best. If he suppressed the information, would it buy enough time to get Brandin Jessup to the party?

The biggest question was, who is Sloan Taylor? If Matt and Danielle Sharp were picking him for the role, he was probably a phenomenal actor. They rarely made personnel mistakes. So bearing that in mind, Brandin was probably dead in the water, unless something happened to Sloan Taylor.

Making up his mind, he lifted the phone and hit a speed dial number.

"This is Thomas Dern. I know that you have a large contingent at Big Bear with Brandin, but I need you to reallocate some resources for an expedited job. I also need every scintilla of information on an actor named Sloan Taylor, I will fax over his basic info. I also will need a team for a special job."

There was a brief pause, before he interrupted, "I realize that, but this is now our top priority. I'll have the basics to you within five minutes."

He disconnected the call and typed in another number. While waiting for the call to go through, he began to reconsider whether this was the right choice. It only took a few moments before he rose from his desk and crossed to stare out the large office window at the glimmering lights below. How he loved this town!

A sleepy voice answered after the second ring.

"This is Thomas Dern. Pull the complete file on an actor named, Sloan Taylor. Sierra-Lima-Oscar-Alpha-November-Tango-Alpha-Yankee-
Lima-Oscar-Romeo. I need it yesterday. Fax everything you can to this number...."

After the call, he spent a long time staring out that window. he knew that he was risking a lot on this gambit, but he saw the potential payoff as worth the risk. After a few minutes, his phone vibrated.

"Yes."

He listened intently to the voice of one of his security consultants.

"Excellent. Now give me a brief run-down of what you have."

As he listened, he smiled with anticipation.

Goodness Gracious, how he loved this town!

~o~O~o~

"So. What now?" Sloan asked.

"Baby, I will do whatever you say. If you want, I will quit and walk away."

"Don't be so melodramatic. We both know that that won't work. As I see it, we have only one real choice to make. We either go along with the plan and explore where it leads us, or we get a divorce."

"Divorce?" Dana was shocked at his casual use of the word.

"Think about it. If we do not go along with her plan, how will we be able to suppress our inner demons? Our entire married life will be a struggle to fight what we crave. You crave the roughness and dominating sex that I cannot give you. In many ways, the very idea of you doing that is the most frightening, yet arousing thing in the world to me.

"Arousing?"

"I'm ashamed to confess, but there are times that the very thought of seeing you being dominated by another man sets me on fire, at the same time, it makes me almost physically ill. I feel so...so dirty, but I can't help it."

He took a deep breath and shook himself.

"In my own defense, it may be just a harmless fantasy. I really don't know. As for my dressing up, it may just be the acting challenge involved in this role, or a deeper craving that I cannot fully articulate. All I really know is that there are dozens of forces at play within me that are both exciting and frightening."

"I feel the same, but I'm so worried that our life together will be destroyed."

"In some ways, hasn't it already been destroyed? Maybe we should stop looking at it that way. Maybe we can't salvage us from all this mess, but is it, at least, possible that we can adapt our lives to this new reality while keeping us together? Aren't the Sharps, themselves evidence that a couple can remain together while expanding their lifestyle?"

"I don't know, baby. I just know that I'm scared. I'm scared to remain where we are, and I'm scared of what the changes will do to us."

"Me, too, but I think it's better than divorce."

"Let's go to bed and think about it. maybe we can talk more tomorrow."

As they got into bed, Sloan caressed his wife. As she responded, he pressed his growing erection against her ass.

"Sloan, just hold me. Please."

"I want to make love to you."

"We can't."

"Oh. But I thought you just had your..."

"It's not my period. It's Danielle. She wants you to abstain from sex until the party."

"What the fuck???"

"She told me to call her when I got home. She then gave me instructions for preparing you. She said if you break the mandate, she will not train you anymore. That was what made me realize I had to tell you the truth about what was going on."

"I see." Sloan's voice was devoid of emotion.

"I suppose that we can..."

"NO. I won't give her the satisfaction of proving her right. Besides, she would know. I have no doubts."

The young couple spent a fitful night, tossing and turning in frustrated anguish.

Chapter Thirty-Two

It had been a turbulent week. The constant emotional roller-coaster was playing havoc on both of their lives. The lack of sexual gratification had Sloan and Dana on edge, and they were each looking forward to the upcoming Carnaval theme party at the Sharp's estate with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

Sloan and Dana rode in together as they discussed their decision, as well as any possible alternatives. It rapidly became apparent that circumstances had effectively taken the decision out of their hands. They also were acutely aware of how the older couple were manipulating them, but could see that their game was based on a strategy of attrition. There was no need for Danielle to press the issue with Sloan, and Matt had shown no inclination to press Dana.

Over the past ten days, there had been little change in the troubled status quo. It was Wednesday, and the Sharp's Carnaval party was only three days away. Dana had been working late every evening with Gabriel and Matt to complete pre-production on Soft Kill as well as to finish the preparations for the party.

Dana's frustrations were compounded by her own horniness. Since Sloan was being forced into celibacy, she felt it was only right that she do likewise. He had offered to help her out, and she had been tempted to take matters into her own hand on more than one occasion, but the idea of allowing Sloan to suffer as she pleasured herself was shameful and she had remained resolute.

As the weekend loomed they were both becoming frazzled. Sloan was progressing well, according to Danielle. He seemed to become more immersed in the role by the hour. She had begun allowing him out to run errands. He was becoming very popular, and she had begun hearing rumors about her hot new assistant becoming a bit of a flirt.

Sloan had but a few brief encounters with Dana on a daily basis, as well as seeing Matt and Gabriel over that period. Matt was always preoccupied, and on those few encounters, he had barely glanced at Sloan. This treatment had actually begun to upset the young actor. After all, it was important that Matt accept him as being a real woman. How could he accomplish that goal if the man never even acknowledged his presence? After one such meeting in Danielle's office, Sloan had visibly deflated as soon as Matt's entourage had swept out of the room.

"Whatever is wrong, dearest?"

"He never even notices me. I try to dress nice, and I always smile. He treats me like a piece of furniture."

Danielle's laugh was brief, but her smile was warm as she pulled Sloan down to sit beside her. Holding both of his hands in hers, she looked at him with barely suppressed hunger as he fiddled with his skirt.

"You silly, silly girl. You are so smart, so pretty, yet so naive!"
Sloan fidgeted and continued to look down at his lap in anguish. This brought a frown and brief rebuke from the older woman.

" You must always look at me when I speak to you, Taylor!"

By now his response was automatic.

"Yes, Miss. Sorry."

"That's better."

The smile returned to her face.

"You have much to learn about men, especially men like Mr. Sharp."

She made sure that she had Sloan's full attention before brushing a stray hair along his cheek. Her soft touch making him shiver.

"Men are such beasts, sometimes. They never understand the lengths that we go to please them. They have only three basic needs and they can only ever focus on one of those needs at a time."

She lightly caressed his cheek as she spoke.

"Men have a basic need to take care of the ones they love, to take care of themselves, and to crush any obstacle that stands in their way.

When he is in a business meeting he is thinking of the last need. He is focused on crushing the challenge of getting this film done. When we are together, he is focused on the need to take care of me. When he takes a toy to the playroom, he is focused on the need to take care of himself."

Sloan tried to wrap his own mind around this concept.

"Am I like that?"

She laughed, again.

"Of course not, I was talking about men."

"But..."

"Listen to me, Taylor, and learn. You may have thought you were a man, but that was acting. Come with me"

She pulled him to his feet and led him to a large mirror along one wall. She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders.

"Tell me what you see, Taylor."

"I see myself."

"Don't be pedantic, you silly girl. What do you see?"

Sloan stared at the reflection and blushed.

"I see...."

He gulped.

"I see...."

Tears began to well in his eyes as he stared at himself.

"I see..."

He felt her breath on his neck as she bent her head down, hiding her satisfied smile.

"Do you see a man?"

"No Miss. I see a...a woman."

"Yessss, my sweet little girl."

Her lips lightly brushed his throat as his entire universe tilted. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The blinders were off as Sloan gazed at the lovely vision in the mirror.

"I am a woman."

"A beautiful woman," she smiled.

Sloan was almost in a fog. It became rapidly apparent to Danielle that her charge had experienced enough for the day. She buzzed for told Bobbie and instructed her to send for the car.

"Yes, Ms. Sharp."

Bobbie glanced at Taylor as she stood in front of a mirror wall staring at her own reflection with a faraway look in her eyes. As she returned to her desk, the receptionist wondered why she had not seen a mention of Taylor in the gossip rags. Apparently, the information was not as earth shattering as she had hoped, but she was keeping the cash, regardless.

"I want you to go do a little shopping, pet. Make yourself look perfect for next week."
She wrote down an address and handed it to Sloan.

"Give this to the driver, I will call ahead to make sure that you get everything you need. Ask the driver to call me as soon as he gets you there. By that time, I will have made arrangements for you to visit one or two other....boutiques."

Her smile would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous.

Chapter Thirty-Three

It was invigorating, energizing, and stimulating. Sloan felt like royalty. She was pampered and spoiled by the proprietor and staff of the spa where Danielle's driver had left him. It was almost three hours of the most wickedly pleasant overindulgence he had ever experienced. When he exited the building the driver held the door and whisked him away to a small boutique just off Rodeo Drive.

Sloan had been measured in the spa as he was being denuded of any extraneous body and facial hair, styled, made over, and coddled. His nails, eyes, lips, fingers and toes were amazingly chic. He knew that Dana had talent, but her talent was focused on a different plane of makeup.

He felt like a super model when he arrived at the shop and was immediately surrounded by fluttering assistants who had an entire rack of clothing assembled for him to try. Within the hour, he had lost count of the outfits. The shop manager, Riva, observed each one and either shrugged or gave a brief shake of the head to denote acceptance or denial. At one point, he smiled and gave an enthusiastic, "YES!"

It was a little after 7:00 when he was escorted to the door with Riva's assurances that the correct items would be delivered first thing on Monday. He stepped out into the twilight and noticed that the car was not waiting. He checked his watch then reached into his purse for his phone. Just then he saw a cab pull up to the curb, dropping a tall passenger at the corner.

"Wait!"

Sloan hurried to the waiting taxi, leaning in as the passenger, politely held the door for him.

"I need to go to..."

The passenger shoved him into the backseat, and the driver began to accelerate away. The cab swayed right around the corner then turned left into an alley as Sloan reached for the opposite door. The large man grabbed his right wrist and tried to wrench it behind him in an arm-lock, but Sloan went limp, turning his body with the motion, and twisting his arm into the man's grip. At the same time, he shoved the heel of his left hand into the bridge of the large assailant's nose.

"FUCK!"

The big man drew back his fist and slammed it into Sloan's midsection, sending the air out of his lungs and leaving him struggling to breathe as the cab shuddered to a stop, accompanied by the sound of twisting metal. Sloan watched helplessly as he noticed the big man glance forward, dropping a syringe filled with yellowish liquid.

Suddenly he heard the driver door open and a soft 'pop'. The large man looked angrily toward the front seat, clawing madly to pull out a dark, ugly-looking handgun. There was another 'pop', this one even louder, followed by an acrid odor, as the big man collapsed on top of Sloan. The rear door was immediately pulled open and Sloan was literally dragged out from under his attacker. He was still struggling to breathe as he looked into the soft brown eyes of his rescuer.

"Are you okay?"

Sloan struggled to form words, but could only nod.

"Come on, we have to get you out of here. I'm sure you don't want the cops to question you about all this."

Sloan tried to figure out what the man meant. He saw that his savior was dressed in comfortable jeans, a dark red polo, and hiking boots. He was about 6-2, very fit, with a confident air. Sloan's gaze went to his belt, where he had clipped a blocky device with a rubberized handle.

"Taser," was the man's only comment.

Sloan saw that a black SUV was idling nearby, it's tubular steel grill barely showing a scratch where it had crumpled the left front fender of the cab. Behind the wheel was another man, casually scanning the area in all directions, as the soft strains of country and western music filtered outward, like tendrils of smoke from the truck's stereo.

"Can you walk?"

The man with the soft eyes helped him into the back of the SUV and they were off. The man looked Sloan over, checking for signs of injury. He had almost panicked when he saw the dark red blood stain on Sloan's ivory blouse, but Sloan reassured him that all the blood was from the big man.

The man with the soft eyes gave him a smile and a nod.

"Looks like ya got a piece of him. Good."

As the truck smoothly rolled up onto the freeway, Sloan began to become cognizant of the fact that someone had just tried to kidnap him. The whole ordeal felt like hours, but a glance at his watch told him that it had only been a few minutes.

"Why would someone try to kidnap me? Where was the driver? Is he alright?"

"Whoa. Slow down. He is fine. It was a set-up. Someone partially deflated the right rear tire while he was checking out a broa...uh...lady across the street. Just before you came out, the friendly cabbie told him he had a really low tire. He went down the block to change it at the 76 station. They had someone wander around inside as a customer to tip them off when you were about to come out. Pretty good timing, actually."

"Who are you guys?"

"I'm Fred. I know, stupid name, but it's short for Alfredo which I can't stand, So that left me with Alfie, Fredo, or Fred. I chose Fred."

His smile was devastating.

"Thank you Fred, and..."

Her eyes turned to the front seat.

"Bobby Earl doesn't talk much."

Sloan saw the driver smile at her in the rearview and nod his head, as a country crooner sang a song about barroom women and cheap whiskey.

"Why doesn't he speak, is he mute?

Fred laughed and Bobby Earl snorted and grinned. Fred had a laugh that sent tingles straight up Sloan's spine and those eyes made her stomach flutter.

"Nah. I guess he just doesn't have much to say." Bobby winked at Sloan in the rearview, making her return his infectious grin. "Me and Bobby Earl been partners about eight years. I don't think I heard a dozen words outta him in all that time."

Bobbie Earl just nodded along and the soft crooning country music gave the whole scene a dream-like quality.

She suddenly looked around with a start. "Where are we going?"

"Don't worry, darlin', we're just stopping off to meet somebody, then straight back to the studio."

Chapter Thirty-Four

George Hadley was so fucking tired of this shit. He held the phone and listened to his new instructions. He was well-trained, and a meticulous planner. His teams rarely made mistakes, but as any trained soldier knows, the first adage of combat is that Murphy is always around to fuck things up.

He merely muttered an occasional terse response until he was clear on his instructions.

"Yes, Sir. We will be rolling in five."

He glanced once at Brandin Jessup's door, then walked outside and got in the big SUV. He saw the taillights of the last crew vehicle turn onto the main road and nodded to Mike who put the truck in gear and pulled out to follow the convoy back to LA. At least, it is late enough that we won't hit any traffic, he thought, as they turned west onto 38. He finally shook his head in resignation.

'Sheesh, what a clusterfuck!'

~o~O~o~

Danielle Sharp was pacing, angrily around her office. Where the hell was Taylor? Her driver had called to say that he had needed to change a flat tire and returned to find the shop closed. Her calls to Riva went unanswered. She debated calling Matt to see if Dana had heard from her husband, but didn't want to start a panic.

As she was about to give up, and call Matt, the door opened and in walked Taylor, looking gorgeous.

"Where have you been, Taylor? I was worried sick!!!"

Sloan set a shopping bag on the sofa. "The car wasn't there, and I had to call a cab. I would've been back sooner, but I needed to stop and get a new blouse. I accidentally spilled wine on mine"

~o~O~o~
Brandin Jessup was feeling nauseous. He stumbled from his bed feeling the cramping in his stomach as if his intestines were being twisted into knots. He scrambled into the bathroom and heaved a torrent of bile into the porcelain throne. He felt another rumble of warning and barely managed to turn and sit before another torrent emerged from a different orifice.

'What the fuck did I do last night?' He idly wondered before the reality hit. The silence was almost eerie. There was no background television noise, no soft music, no bustle of people moving about the cabin. Where was everyone?

He wiped and flushed, then rinsed out his mouth in the sink. What the fuck was in that shit? He knew he'd made a major mistake, but he couldn't help himself. Besides, it was only cooking sherry.

Opening the bathroom door, he found the entire cabin deserted. They were gone. The place was empty. When he opened the shades, there were no lights on anywhere in the compound. They had all pulled out. The compound was empty. He stood there dumbfounded, cursing the roiling of his gut. Brandin Jessup felt completely alone.

He went back into his room, the empty bottle lying in plain sight where he had dropped it. On the dresser, he saw his wallet, keys, and cell phone. He grabbed the phone, but it was dead.

"Dead. Like your career you dumb fucking asshole!" he croaked at the gaunt, stringy-haired, half-woman that he saw reflected in the mirror.

Taking a quick shower, he then fumbled through his clothes, trying to find something to wear. He knew that there were no male clothes to be found, so he settled on a pair of jeggings and a too-tight tee shirt that barely reached his waist. He covered it with a short, leather jacket to obscure the feminine artwork on the front.

Grabbing his wallet and keys, he fumbled for a few moments trying to find a place to store them. Unwilling to carry a purse, he stuffed them into the jacket's pockets before heading out the door. In the driveway, he spotted a small, sporty compact coupe.

'Thank God they left me a car,' he thought.

Getting behind the wheel, he considered his options. His first impulse was to call Thomas and try to explain, but was that a good idea? It would be much more effective if he could talk with his agent face to face. That was going to be painful with no support, but who could he count on for support?

Brandin was suddenly struck by the depths of his own isolation. He had no real friends to call on. His mother, always his biggest fan and strongest supporter, was in a nursing home and suffering from a stroke and early onset Alzheimer's. He kept her in one of the finest, and most expensive, senior care facilities in the world. Thomas had apparently cashed out. The only people left were hangers on and flunkies that couldn't care less about his problems.

His only hope was Thomas Dern. Maybe Brandin could convince him to give him one more chance. the man had been the closest thing to a father that Brandin Jessup had ever known. Despite his many fuck-ups, Brandin knew that Thomas truly cared about him. Maybe he had seriously destroyed any hope of landing the part in Soft Kill, but there were other projects.

Starting the car, he pulled out of the drive onto the road leading into Big Bear. The crisp chill of the air helped to clear his head, but he knew he needed to grab something to eat, despite the agony of his stomach. He rolled into town and pulled into the first convenience store he saw.

He paid at the pump and started filling the tank. Leaving pump running, he went inside the store, grabbed some chips and a couple snack cakes. On the way to the register, he paused at a cooler and eyed the drinks.

'Maybe a little hair of the dog to settle the nerves,' he thought, as he grabbed a six-pack of Carlsberg.

It was a little after 11:00 pm when he paid and walked back out to the car. Dumping his purchases on the passenger seat, he shut the pump off, got behind the wheel, and hit the road for the three-hour drive to Thomas Dern's home.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The morning media were going crazy with the shocking news of Brandin Jessup's crash. His car had veered off the opposite shoulder Old Topanga Canyon Road. His car was a barely recognizable twisted steel ruin and the responding firemen had needed to use the Jaws of Life to remove him from the wreckage. He had been flown out by Care Flight to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, and his condition had been listed as critical.

The Twittersphere was fluttering with speculation as rumors began to emerge. One report claimed that he was engaged in sex with a teen prostitute while driving. Another claimed that he was wearing women's clothing. Still another said it was a suicide attempt. Almost every single rumor speculated on drugs and alcohol.

One particular caller on a morning talk show claimed to have overheard a first-responder saying that the mangled vehicle reeked of alcohol and that several empty beer bottles were found in the wreckage. Although without verification, the story spread like wildfire. As often happens, when enough people tell a story, it gains the semblance of truth. By morning drive time, everyone was talking about how Brandin Jessup had gotten drunk and wrecked his car.

The hospital remained silent on his condition, only offering to update his condition after family notification. Reporters loitering around the hospital got photos of Thomas Dern, escorting a tall, leggy blonde woman wearing dark glasses. This immediately created a new swarm of fluttering speculation about her connection with Brandin Jessup.

Within 30 minutes of their arrival, she was identified as Celia Cole, a fresh new actress.

~o~O~o~

Dana woke before Sloan, she lay on her side observing him in repose and wondering about the strange and twisted path that had brought them here. So many things had changed between them. She knew in her heart that there were still many changes to come. Although one part of her needed those changes, another part was terrified to face them.

In so many ways, She and Sloan had become much closer over these past few days, but in others, they seemed to be drifting apart. Her love for Sloan was still strong. She still felt the desire for him as a lover and as a soul mate. She knew now that there were things that she needed, things that she had denied to herself and to him. Things that each of them knew that he would never be able to give her.

Sloan had needs, too. Needs that he had denied. She was sure that she could fulfill many of them for him, maybe all of them, in time. Danielle seemed to believe that Dana could grow to be everything that Sloan needed. She hoped that the other woman was being honest. Dana had yet to catch either of the Sharps in a lie, but it was like making a deal with the Devil. It was often hard to see the fine print.

She reached out to stroke his cheek, so soft and feminine. Sloan moaned softly, rolling onto his back, exposing the cleft between his legs.

She could make out the chastity cage that Dana had locked him into. She realized that Sloan was getting aroused by a dream as he began growing within the confines of it.

'Poor baby,' she thought, then smiled. 'Soon my love. Just one more day.'

She felt the dampness between her legs in anticipation of tomorrow night's party. As the party planner, she had a pretty good idea of what was in store. She wanted so badly to touch herself, or better yet, to force Sloan's magic tongue between her legs until she screamed for mercy.

'One more day,' she promised herself, feeling a shiver of anticipation as she rose from the bed and padded off to shower.

~o~O~o~

-Sloan felt so good. She was dancing for him, swaying her hips and sliding her hands up to cup her breasts as she saw him hardening in his pants. She turned her back and smiled at him coquettishly over her shoulder as she lowered her swaying ass onto his lap. The music was thumping in time to Sloan's own heartbeat. The beat filling them both with lust as he grabbed for her hips.

She giggled as she playfully slapped his hands away. She turned and made a mock-angry face as she raised a finger and mouthed a pouty 'no-no-no' then smiled sexily and opened his pants freeing his hard shaft. She licked her lips at the sight of the turgid shaft, noticing the glistening dollop at the tip.

Bending down, she used her finger to wipe up that milky droplet and raised it to her mouth as she backed away. She extended her pink tongue and licked it off like a dripping ice cream cone, then hungrily sucked the tip of her finger with a moan of desire, her eyes never leaving
his.

With a smoky gaze, she swayed her hips while turning away and lowering her panties. The twin globes of her ass seemed to mesmerize him as she lowered herself down onto the throbbing shaft. As his fat cock began to penetrate her, they both moaned loudly, but Sloan's moan was as much pain as pleasure. She tried to ride him, but the pain was too much and she had to pull away.

Sloan left Fred with his soft, brown eyes pleading for relief, a bad case blue balls, and a shocked look on his face at the cock cage that was constricting Sloan's own aching shaft.-

~o~O~o~

Sloan awoke with a start to the sound of the shower and the ache of his compressed morning erection. Rushing to the sink, he grabbed a kitchen towel, dampened it, and applied it to his balls. The coolness began to ease his pain as he grabbed a few ice cubes and wrapped them in the towel as well before reapplying it to his deflating member.

'One more day....FUCK!' He thought to himself.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Marco was sitting in his office watching a video. It showed a young girl being roughly gang-banged by five tatted-up young thugs. He was thinking of giving it the title 'Bangin' dem Bitches in da Hood!' it sounded street, and right now that was selling. Marco was pretty sure they could make a fair chunk of change off it since the slut still had that fresh-off-the-farm look. Fortunately, her glazed eyes and listless demeanor were not likely to be that noticeable to the average viewer.

'I hope she had fun, cuz in a year she's just gonna be another drugged-out prostitute.'

He grabbed his phone on the third ring.

"Ya?"

"Mr. Shirzer just rolled in."

"'Bout fuckin time, buzz him in."

Marco Lane had met Dave Shirzer ten years before, and both of their careers had since benefitted by the association. His minded drifted back over the years. It had been a wild ride.

-Marco Lane had been a thug running a few whores on the streets of East LA. Dave had been a gopher for a small-time talent agent. Marco had been told that some white guy was hasslin' one of his girls, so he went to straighten the fucker out.

He found Dave chatting up one of his new girls and overheard him telling her how he could make her a movie star. He paused to listen for a few moments, then he began to laugh at the pudgy white boy's words. The girl suddenly jumped, breaking the spell, but Marco had to admit the fat punk had a silver tongue and a damn good line.

Within a few weeks, they had become partners. Dave knew lots of young women that were desperate to keep their dreams of stardom alive. The vast majority were going nowhere, so Dave started 'helping' the nowhere girls get gigs to aid them in paying the bills. He also took them to parties, got them high, and eventually introduced them to Marco.

Dave had his own agency within a year and began pipelining girls into Marco's businesses. Marco, by this time, had several business interests and he had consolidated them into three levels. New girls were introduced to soft porn modeling and video shoots. Nothing too explicit, just titillating stuff you might see in sexy ads or on cable TV channels. After they got a taste of the lifestyle and the drugs, he moved them into more hardcore porn videos and magazines and used them as moderately-priced escorts. Eventually, they ended up working the streets or were sold off to some out of town connection.

The only bump along the way had been Karin Ridge. When Karin stepped off the bus and into Dave's office, he knew she was gonna be special. Karin was the perfect blend of cute girl-next-door, and saucy Lolita. She had a worldly wisdom that got her noticed in a hurry. Dave was so excited that he had finally discovered a gem after so many years of mining for talent.

Several agencies had made inquiries about her representation, and he had bragged to Marco about it. Marco had advised Dave to sell her contract, and Dave had been vehemently angry about it. It took all of Marco's powers of persuasion to convince his partner to sell her off. It came down to a simple rationale that Dave had been blinded to.

"Dave, do you wanna be rich and be able to fuck hot sexy babes anytime ya want, or do you wanna be errand boy to a Hollywood Goddess and worry every day whether she's gonna dump yer fat ass?"

"What do you mean, Marco?"

"Right now, we are building something that works, but one of the reasons it works is because nobody really looks at us that hard, capisce?"

"Uh....Okay."

"Once ya become a real movie playa in this town, everybody gonna know ya, right?"

"I suppose."

"And what about our partnership? Ya wanna throw it away on some bitch 'ats gonna dump yer ugly ass in sight o' two years?"

Dave pondered the words with growing understanding, but Marco hammered it home, emphasizing the point.

"Here's how I see it, Dave. Ya sells her contract, but ya retain some o' them residyal things. Fer instance, ya get the credit fer discoverin' her so's ya get braggin' rights. Ya gets her ta take some pics an maybe a testify thing ya can put on the wall. Makes ya more legit without the heat, ya know? That makes the newbies even more eager ta sign wit'ya!"

Marco's plan had merit. He sold Karin's contract to a reputable agency and she had an Oscar nomination within the year. Their business boomed. Within three more years, Dave had sold off two other contracts and Marco had expanded their businesses to include male actors and escorts. After all, there was a niche for that kind of thing, a niche that Dave and Marco were more than happy to fill. -

Marco smiled as his partner came in. Dave looked a little haggard as if he had been up all night. He suddenly noticed that he looked like he had been roughed up a little and Marco's smile faded as two more guys followed Dave into the room.

The shock of the taser hit him before he could react to the threat and Marco collapsed backward off his chair as electrical pulses surged through his body. Then it all went dark.

~o~O~o~

He could barely see that Dave was cuffed to a chair on the edge of the pool of light in the center of his office. Marco only needed a few moments to realize that his own wrists and ankles were firmly secured to a straight back chair, as well. Behind the light, he saw a face leaning into him. The rest of the room was in shadow, but he knew that at least one more guy was hovering nearby.

"Don't talk Marco, just listen and nod every time I stop talking, got it?"

The guy was big, maybe 6-3 or so, solid looking and competent. His hair was brown and cut short, almost military. His brown eyes were cold and hard with small crow's feet at the corners, as if he spent a lot of time squinting in the sun. His desk lamp was shining in Marco's face and the play of the shadows on the man's skin gave him a frightening appearance.

The backhand to his face was casual but effective. "That was your cue to nod, asshole."

Marco nodded. He was a tough guy and had proven it many times on the street. But he knew the situation well enough to know when to bend a little. He was not yet scared, but he was definitely wary. He knew his only recourse was to watch and wait for an opportunity.

"Marco, it seems that your little enterprise here has pissed someone off. Someone that does not like being pissed off. Someone that can squish you like a bug."

After a brief pause, Marco nodded again, cautiously.

"This someone wants to make you a business proposition. You want to listen to his offer?"

Another nod.

"He wants you to pack up what you have and relocate to another state, Tonight. And he lets you live. That sound like a plan?"

Marco hesitated, but seeing the eyes harden, he nodded twice more.

"The thing is, Marco. I see you as a hard guy. I can see you making more trouble for someone. Oh sure, you'll pull up stakes and go away, but you're the kind of guy that will come back. You'll carry that anger around and you'll plot, and you'll scheme until you see your chance."

He pulled back out of the light, "The reason I can tell you're that type is because I'm that type, too! Oh, I don't mean we are the same. No Marco, we are most definitely are not the same."

Marco heard a light scraping of metal on metal as the guy continued talking.

"You see, I don't make my living off of the suffering of others. I may not be a saint, but I don't think you and I will be meeting again in the same Hell after we die."

Marco's eyes strained to see the man behind the glare of the lamp.

"By the way, Marco, you forgot to nod, again."

Four muffled pops punctuated the end of Marco and Dave's partnership.

Fred Ibarra calmly unscrewed the suppressor from his Colt 45 Commander and glanced up at the three tap code before opened to admit another man. The newest member of the team looked down at the two bodies on the floor as Bobby Earl Rayburn removed the Velcro cuffs from Dave Shirzer's ankles and wrists while Fred worked on the other.

"Fuck, Fred, the boss said we were just supposed to convince them to leave town!"

Bobby Earl looked up at the new guy, his face blankly honest.

"Sho'nuf look convinced ta me, kid," he pointed out in a soft southern drawl.

Fred almost broke up laughing as the new guy openly gaped at Bobby Earl. Since joining the company two weeks ago, the kid had never heard the quiet southerner say so much as a single word. As Fred rose to his feet, his features calm and composed, he met the kid's eyes head on.

"Kid, you gonna learn that sometimes the boss says what he wants, and sometimes he just expects you to know."

The kid turned around and headed down to where Marco's crew were being detained. As soon as they heard him clumping down the stairs Fred looked over at his buddy, and his face broke into a grin.

"What The Fuck, Bobby Earl? Gonna have to start calling you Chatty Cathy!"

Bobby Earl just snorted and gave his partner a shrug. The two men nodded and followed the new guy downstairs to mop up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Dana and Sloan had listened to the news on the inbound drive. The big stories involved Brandin Jessup's car wreck and a burning warehouse off Whittier Blvd. Jessup's condition was unknown, but the fire was being investigated as possible arson with the city's gang task force involved. There were reports that several bodies had been found in the basement, each had been shot execution-style.

The couple parked at the studio and entered the main offices. They passed Bobbie on the way in, as she nodded good morning and waved them through. Danielle was sitting on the sofa, holding her cell phone as if she had been texting. They stopped and stood together just inside the door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Danielle called out, "Taylor, present yourself."

Sloan walked to the older woman, stopped, and lifted his calf-length skirt to his waist. Gripping his panties, he lowered them to mid-thigh, then held the skirt high while blushing profusely. Dana's already wet pussy surged as she witnessed her husband's humiliation.

"I see you are still safely locked up." She announced, then added almost to herself, but loud enough for Dana to hear, "I cannot believe that I caught you masturbating in my private bathroom." Her voice oozed her disapproval. "If I had known what a wanton slut you are, I would have instructed Dana to put you into a restraint from day one." She made a dismissive sound and delivered a final, scathing comment. "How shamelessly disgusting!"

Her eyes moved past Sloan to take in his wife, "Dana, come here."

She approached them, stopping to her husband's left and looking at Danielle's shoes.

"It excites you to see Taylor this way, doesn't it you nasty girl, and don't you dare lie to me."

"Yes, Miss," she meekly replied. "It does excite me."

"Taylor, prove to me that she is not lying."

Sloan gave her a pleading look, then his shoulders drooped as he dropped his skirt, his panties still at half mast. Dana kept her eyes on the floor, her body quivering as Sloan lifted her skirt and slid his fingers along the gusset of her panties, making her moan as she grabbed his shoulder to remain upright.

He lifted his three middle fingers like a boy scout swearing an oath. They were moist and glistening.

"I can't see from there, come closer."

He stepped forward and she grabbed his wrist maneuvering him to her left so that Dana could see him in profile. First she brought the fingers to her nose, inhaling deeply. She then stretched her tongue out into an impossibly long reach tasting just the tip of his middle finger. Finally, she sucked all three fingers into her mouth and savored them, making a soft sound.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm."

Dana yearned to feel that lengthy organ within her soaking pussy. She had been consistently bombarded by sexual hunger over the last two weeks without relief. Her mind was feverish with need. She swore she could taste it like pheromones in the air around her. She felt guilty that she had actually been relieving herself at times over the last few days, without letting Danielle know. She had felt it necessary to confess to Sloan, vowing that no longer would she lie to her husband.

When she felt somewhat recovered, she looked up into Danielle's knowing grin. "Taylor, listen carefully to me, girl. Have you remained chaste, as I commanded?"

"Yes, Miss!" came the rapid affirmation.

"No sexual release...at all?"

He blushed. "Miss, I had wetness leaking from my cage this morning, but I swear I did not masturbate."

"Really?" She was watching Dana's eyes, her gaze never wavering, during this exchange.

"I swear to you Miss, my wife did not touch me or induce it."

"I see. And what were you dreaming of that aroused you so much?"

Sloan blushed a deep scarlet. "I...I do not know, Miss!"

Her eyes stabbed him like a knife as she thundered, "DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME, SLUT!"

Sloan gulped nervously, "Well....I dreamed of a...a dancing girl...a lap dance."

"And......?"

"It...ummm...it turned into sex."

"A Fuck dream...and were you watching or participating?"

"P-participating," He whispered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"How delicious for you, sweet girl," she purred as she ran a hand up his arm sending shivers coursing through his body. "And who was fucking whom?"

"Well uh...that is...Ummm"

Her grip tightened on his forearm and her nails bit in almost breaking the skin.

"Tell me, Taylor...how big was his cock?"

"It was about...." He froze, hands about eight inches apart before he realized the enormity of his confession. He heard Dana's gasp, as Danielle clapped excitedly," Brava, sweet Taylor, another conquest."

Sloan could only blush and stare at the floor

~o~O~o~

Brandin Jessup was wheeled out of surgery about noon. He had severe trauma to the brain, a punctured lung, internal hemorrhaging, and a plethora of additional injuries. The surgeon, who met with Thomas Dern, Floyd Denison (Brandin's attorney) and Celia Cole (Brandin's fake girlfriend) laid out the laundry list of injuries for them. He went on to tell them that his relaxed state, due to intoxication, may have kept him from dying at the scene.

"W-will he...will he s-survive, doctor?" asked Celia with trembling lip and all the melodrama of a veteran soap star.

"That depends on many factors, Miss Cole. He is somewhat stabilized in a medically induced coma. We will closely monitor him as there may be additional injuries that manifest themselves in the days to come. We removed forty-two bone fragments from his brain. Some of his broken bones have not been set, as we did not wish to extend the surgery and risk further trauma. Those will need to be dealt with, but are not presently life threatening."

Celia's tears left rivulets down her cheeks, ruining her carefully-applied makeup, but she knew it was a good effect in this situation. it enhanced the dark circles of her eyes and added to the image of a grieving lover. She kept her face in character, although she was inwardly excited at the media swarm waiting outside to interview her, plain old Cathy Cole who couldn't even get a prom date her junior year.

Thomas was cool and professional, questioning the surgeon about Brandin's level of care and making sure he was getting the best treatment possible. Meanwhile, J. Floyd Denison, Attorney-at-Law held the quaking girl in an awkward embrace, hoping her mascara and runny nose didn't soil his Stefano Ricci shirt and Salvatore Ferragamo tie. Celia snuffled on, inconsolably, as the exhausted surgeon finally left them alone in the small waiting room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Celia stepped back and crossed the room to a mirror on the wall. As she examined her face, Thomas dismissed the lawyer and assured him that it would be business as usual from the Jessup estate as long as Brandin remained alive. They both understood that contingency plans would need to be made, just in case he didn't.

Crossing to Celia, Thomas stood behind her, meeting her eyes in the well-polished mirror.

"Nicely done, Celia."

"You don't think it was too overemotional? I was afraid I might be overdoing it."

He pondered, considering. "No. It was fine."

"So are we going out now?" Her voice was eager.

"Oh my goodness, no. We have to wait at least twenty minutes before we can leave."

"But why?" she asked, with knotted brow.

"Well first, we must allow Mr. Denison time to make a few comments to the press."

Her eyes narrowed, "I thought he was not supposed to make any comments. You said we would be the ones explaining things to the press."

"That is correct, my dear girl, but Floyd Denison is a high profile attorney. He can easily milk fifteen or twenty minutes out of a crowd of news hounds without saying a single substantive word. That allows him some free media face time, plus it allows the media to get even more desperate for a soundbite. By the time we walk out the door, they will be in a feeding frenzy. Just make sure that you use me as your prop, cry whenever they ask a question that isn't on point and stick to the script."

"Got it."

"See that you do." He gave her a stern look and spoke with complete calm. "Celia, if you play this right, and follow the script the way I laid it out, you may very well find yourself featured in a major motion picture."

"I will, Sir. I can do this, I promise."

Thomas Dern's eyes softened into a very sad look, then he sighed. "Of late, my child, that is an expression that I find myself to be losing faith in."

Almost exactly twenty-five later, Celia Cole of Danbury, Connecticut, with a firm grip on Thomas Dern's arm, walked out of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and into a media circus.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The evening news showed a grieving Celia Cole gripping the arm of Thomas Dern as if her life depended on it. Several microphones were thrust into their faces as they attempted to answer questions about Brandin Jessup's condition. the questions seemed to run in circles.

Q: Was Brandin drunk?

A: Only the doctors can say. Right now we are focused on his health.

Q: How long have you been a couple?

A: we have been seeing each other for a while, but we both thought it best not to share it with the public. Brandin had enough to deal with, and I didn't want to capitalize on his name.

Q: Why was Brandin on Old Topanga in the middle of the night?

A: We were staying at a friend's house, Brandin suffers from insomnia, as most of his fans know, and went for a drive.

Q: Why was he alone?

A: I had gone to bed, and he didn't wake me. He has always been considerate that way.

Q: Was it true he was wearing women's clothing?

A: (muffled tears as she buries her head against Thomas' arm. Thomas fields the question) I think that is unwarranted speculation. I don't know why you would ask a question like that at a time like this.

Q: Is it true that .....

The news cut back to a the anchor who added, '

'Brandin Jessup's condition is still listed as critical, and concerned fans are being urged to visit Life4Brandin.com for further details. The website also offers information for those wishing to donate blood or to offer financial support. In further news, police are investigating a suspicious fire at an East Los Angeles warehouse as a gang-related crime, and they fear it may be the precursor to a drug war. We take you to Pamela Chase for the latest dev...'

Dana turned off the TV and looked at her husband.

"I love you, Sloan."

"I love you, too."

"I am so worried about tomorrow." She buried her head into his chest, the breast forms pressing into her cheek.

"It'll be fine, really it will."

"I don't trust them, and yet..."

"Baby, we have talked about this and talked about this. We both know what we want, and we both know what they want. We have to play it their way if we want to reach that goal."

"What if they don't cast you? What if they pick someone else for the role?"

Sloan nodded to the TV, "Well the number one contender for that scenario is out. I guess there could be others, and I would not wish Brandin Jessup's fate on anyone, but I am certain that if they give me a fair shot at the part, I will get it."

"I know you will, but what about the rest?"

"We both knew from the start that it was possible that they would demand a quid pro quo, baby. We both are interested in at least exploring the idea, whether they demand it or not, right?"

Dana nodded into his chest.

"So the worst they can do is drop us from the project. That puts us back where we were a month ago. can we go back to that life?"

"I...I think so...I hope so."

"Hopefully, we won't need to find out. Look, if we go along for a while, I get the part, shooting begins, and we decide we can't play their twisted little games, can they really afford to drop us from the project?"

"No. I have seen the budget. They will definitely be in too deep to cut us loose if that happens."

"So. We take a chance and get a little kinky with them...something we both think we want...and then we re-evaluate."

"I suppose so. By the way, thank you for not ratting me out to Ms. Sharp."

"When?"

"When she was asking you about your chastity. She was looking at me and I was sure she was going to ask about me."

"Ahhhh....yeah, I was afraid that was where she was headed."

Dana pulled back and searched his face. "You mean....did you make up that story to throw her off?"

Sloan wanted to cop out, he held her gaze for only a few seconds before crumbling. He bowed his head for a few moments, then raised his eyes to hers, tears of shame sliding down his face.

"No baby. It was true," he whispered, "and if she had asked me about you, I would have had to tell her the truth."

Her gaze softened as she leaned in to kiss his soft lips. "It's okay, baby. I understand."

~o~O~o~

... din Jessup's condition is still listed as critical, and concerned fans are being urged to visit Life4Brandin.com for further details. The website also offers information for those wishing to donate blood or to offer financial support. In further news, police are investigating a suspicious fire at an East Los Angeles warehouse as a gang-related...'

Thomas Dern turned off the TV and leaned back into his chair, fingers steepled under his chin as he considered the events of the last few days.

'Foolish boy,' he thought. 'Foolish, foolish boy.'

Brandin had always been impetuous. He accepted that fact, but he also enjoyed it, in a strangely vicarious way.

'I suppose it's always easy to love a child's faults,' he equivocated. 'After all, that's how children are.'

He should not have told them to leave Brandin's keys, or he should have, at the very least, left George or another of the bodyguards with him.
How could he have failed to see this coming?

Thomas knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brandin had been coming to him, coming to apologize, coming to ask for one more chance. He wondered if he would have granted it. He liked to believe that he would have. He hoped that he would have, but he feared that he would have refused.

Thomas Dern had no children that he was aware of. Having had only three sexual encounters with women in over fifty-one years of life, he was relatively certain that this was true. He had zero interest in sex, and those three encounters had helped to reinforce his abstinence. He also knew that men held no interest for him, either.

He was aware of the nickname that had been placed upon him during his career, and it often was useful in his business. He was shrewd, he never drank, smoked, nor used drugs. He was scrupulously fair and honest without being a pushover. People trusted Thomas Dern, and even though he had never been a Mormon, he cultivated the image because it made his business dealings easier. He was actually ambivalent on most religious matters and had no opinion on the existence of God.

He was sure, in his heart, that Brandin was never getting out of the hospital, and he was unsure if the estate, considering Brandin's many excesses, would be able to handle the exorbitant expenses associated with his care, not to mention that dreadful harpy from whose loins Brandin sprang.

Her stroke had almost made Thomas a believer in God. until that day she had been nothing but a pain the posterior to Thomas. Eileen
Jeppesen had redefined the term, 'stage mother.' During the years that he had been the young star's agent, she had been a constant source of irritation, contradicting every decision, making unreasonable demands of directors and studios, bullying his co-stars, and forcing Thomas to work twice as hard just to keep him employed.

The one bright spot had been Brandin. He was extremely talented, amazingly articulate, and completely gorgeous. He had a face that Michelangelo or Donatello would have immortalized. He could captivate you with a smile, a nod, or a wink. Brandin was truly a treasure, and the only person Thomas Dern had ever loved.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, the breeze off the Pacific had cleared the smog and the weather was a perfect 73F. Sloan was in and out of the shower first, as Dana made a light breakfast of toast, yogurt, and cantaloupe. As he ate, she slipped into the shower and got dressed for their big day. At 9:00 sharp, a car parked at the curb, and the couple hurried out to meet it.

Their first stop was to be the same spa off Rodeo where Sloan had visited the day of the kidnapping attempt. The memory made her think of Fred, with his firm body, confident manner, and soft eyes. She blushed at the memory, and wondered how he was doing, and if Fred ever thought about her.

Sloan was well aware that Fred knew exactly what she was, but she was also realized that Fred had never once acted repulsed by Sloan. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Fred had treated Sloan like a lady from the moment they met until he and Bobby Earl had dropped her off at the studio.

During their brief time together there had been a definite spark between them, especially during those last twenty minutes before they reached the studio. She had sat in the back of the car with Fred while the laconic Bobby Earl drove without comment. She could remember some country song lamenting over a 'broken heart' and how 'somebody done somebody wrong,' and feel every incidental touch, awkward glance, and intimate smile between them. Sloan had been so frightened, yet so hopeful that he would try to kiss her before she got out of the car. Alas, he had only smiled, patted her hand and said good-bye.

She knew that she should be disgusted by these feelings, but wasn't. She knew that much of society considered people like her to be freaks.

She also knew that she felt a desperate need to explore this side of herself. It was like going through life, always feeling as though something is missing, then discovering that you have a long-lost twin sister out there, somewhere. How could anyone walk away without at least trying to find her?

Sloan and Dana had scoured the internet for information on people like her, but much of it did not strike the same chord. Sloan felt no desire to remove her penis. This deemed to be a common feeling amongst most transsexuals. They felt they were trapped in the wrong body. The penis made them feel wrong like it was some alien organism and should not be part of them.

Breasts were another thing. Sloan wanted them but knew that they would have a negative impact on her acting career. She was okay with the breast forms, for now, but she knew that eventually she needed to buy or grow her own. Growing them would require hormones, and hormones meant sterility. Sloan shivered at the thought. In the past, they had each expressed the desire to have children, someday. Of course, research explained that they could always freeze her sperm and use them for later fertilization upon Dana's eggs. Still it would be a huge bridge to cross.

Another major drawback would be the loss of sexual function in her penis. This was another scary concept for Sloan, who enjoyed having a penis. She loved the pleasure that it gave her. It wasn't just Sloan, either. Dana loved the pleasure that it gave to her, although their forced celibacy of late had certainly put a damper on that. No, the idea of hormones seemed to be a non-starter at this point.

That left implants. Sloan felt that implants could definitely be a possibility in the near future if they chose to continue on their current course.

Many tall, athletic women had small breasts. She could add a pair that gave her some form, maybe even enhance her flat ass by adding a little padding to round it out a bit. Nothing huge, or particularly noticeable, just something to add shape to her body.

She tried to visualize how she would look and smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts, my love?"

Sloan gave a soft blush which brought a grin and a giggle from Dana. "You shameless hussy! How big was that dream cock, anyway?"

Sloan blushed even deeper and shook her head adamantly. "No, baby. I was picturing myself with real breasts. Trying to imagine how I would look with real boobs, instead of falsies."

"Do you really want them?" Dana sounded concerned.

"I think I do," Sloan replied, staring down in embarrassment. "I don't mean great big ones," he hurriedly added, looking up to see if Dana was hurt, or angry. "Maybe a small B-cup?"

"It's okay sweetie, I'm not angry. remember, honesty always," she kissed him, softly. "I think they would be cute, and so much more fun than these!" She playfully 'honked' his fake boobs.

They arrived at the spa and were immediately led to private rooms for their treatments. Sloan had already been waxed on her previous visit, so was only getting extensions, styling, and makeup. Everything had been arranged by Danielle Sharp, and she let her mind float free as she was pampered and prettied up for her big night.

It was almost 3:00 when they left the spa and nearing 4:00 when they arrived at the Sharps' home in the hills overlooking Los Angeles. The pair were met by a servant who ushered them into Danielle's home office.

The tall woman crossed quickly to meet them. "I was beginning to wonder what happened to you two. Let me get a look at you both."

Danielle stopped at Dana first, holding her hands at arm's length as she eyed her up and down, then smiled, radiantly. "Yummy. You look good enough to eat."

She leaned in and placed a kiss on Dana's lips. Sloan watched them in profile, noting the heat between them. Even though the kiss was relatively chaste, it lingered and he saw Dana melt into it.

Dana was breathless when it ended, almost stumbling forward when those delicious lips withdrew from hers. She felt the rising heat of passion and the moisture between her thighs.

'Oh My God,' she thought as Danielle drew her closer to Sloan and began a complete inspection, circling him like a shark.

"Very nice, sweet girl," she murmured as her fingertips caressed his feminized body. "Very nice, indeed!"

Finally stopping in front of him, and still firmly gripping Dana's hand, she declared, "We are going to have so much fun."

Sloan raised her eyes from where she had been examining the hardwood floor to see Danielle's right arm snake around Dana's slender waist and pull her body tight against her, forcing Dana to arch her neck up to meet those dark blue orbs. Danielle smiled down into Dana's soft green eyes leaned her face down until their lips were lightly brushing as she carefully enunciated each word.

"SO....MUCH...FUN!"

She grabbed Dana's lower lip between her teeth and pulled it, lightly, making both Dana and Sloan weak at the knees.

"Come. There is much to do." She released Dana, swatting her ass. "Let's get this party started!"

Chapter Forty

Sloan was aghast when she saw her costume. It could barely be characterized as such since it left very little to the imagination. It consisted of a sheer body stocking that would barely be visible, sequined bikini top and bottom, a flouncy feathered skirt that would barely cover her hips, and a set of multi-color angel feather wings. and matching headdress. It looked like a Vegas showgirl outfit and left very little to the imagination.

"I c-can't...e-everyone will know!" She cried out.

"You will," insisted Danielle. "Now shake your slutty little ass into this costume before I get angry."

Dana was off dealing with party preparation and would be changing after Sloan was ready. This left Sloan alone in Danielle's care. Since
Sloan had been spending most of her time with Danielle for the past two weeks, she found it completely natural to obey.

"Uhmmm..." Sloan stood there with the body stocking halfway up her thighs, staring at the cage.

"It will stretch, silly girl. Hurry up!"

Sloan complied, feeling the clingy material slide along her skin, seductively caressing a multitude of already feverish nerve endings. When the item was in place, it covered almost every inch below the boat neck top seam. The color was almost a perfect match for Sloan's skin tone, and only her neck hands and feet remained uncovered. It felt amazing against her bare skin.

Danielle handed her a thong with a pouch that barely contained the restraint cage, where Sloan was suffering from her arousal. Next came a bikini bottom and matching clamshell top that was covered with rhinestones and sequins. As soon as they were securely in place, Danielle opened a big box and began removing large glittering pieces of jewelry. It began with 4 inch wide jeweled bands for her ankles and wrists, these were attached by strands of beads to her silver 4-inch open toe stiletto heels and fingerless gloves each glittering with sequins and rhinestones.

The next item was a huge glittering choker and bib collar that spread down across her shoulders and upper chest, obscuring the seam of the body glove, and attached to the bra using glimmering strands of beads. When it was finally in place, and Danielle was satisfied, it made
Sloan's neck look stretched, and it was difficult to lower her chin.

"Tonight my sweet, beautiful girl, you will not be able to lower your head, but you must always remember to lower your gaze. It is a sign of submission and respect. It displays your deferential nature, and men will find it alluring. You will play up to them. You are a shameless flirt, and tonight you must expand that to the nth degree. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Miss," She whispered, eyes lowered.

"Good girl. Tonight you will make me proud. You will not fail me. failure is not an option. This thing that you will do tonight is not about getting a part in a film. It is not about playing a sex game. It is not about your feelings or your wife's feelings. It is about doing what I demand of you. It is repayment of your obligation to me for my sacrifices over these past two weeks."

"Yes, Miss."

"Taylor, by the end of this evening, I had better be pleased. There is no other choice. You made that choice the day you came to me as a pitiful girly boy." she used the term with scorn. "I made you what you are. You surrendered your choice to me and so I am the one who chooses for Taylor Sloane."

She could feel the fear emanating from Sloan as she shifted nervously. She took Sloan's jaw in her hand, leaning into her face until she could taste her breath.

"Look at me Taylor and gain the strength that you will need," Sloan shifted her eyes to meet Danielle's, feeling the power of her gaze. "Do not fear your weakness, for I am your strength. Do not fear me, for I am your will. After tonight, your obligation to me is over and your will is your own. The moment we tell my husband what our little Taylor girl has in her panties, that very second your will becomes your own. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Good girl. Now then I have just a few more items for my pretty little Taylor-slut!"

Danielle opened a closet and removed a mass of feathers. By the time she was finished Sloan Taylor was Taylor Sloane and looked like a Las Vegas showgirl. She wore a wild multicolor feathered skirt that went from her hips to mid-thigh, a set of feathered wings on her back that arched out over her shoulders, and a feathered headdress that looked like a bird's plumage.

When Danielle pulled the drape off a huge mirror, she was stunned speechless. Gone was any resemblance to Sloan Taylor. There was only the barest resemblance to the Taylor Sloane she had seen each day for the past two weeks. In her place was a cross between an Amazonian Goddess, and a woman/bird hybrid.

"So beautiful, my sweet Taylor," she breathed into her ear, from which huge chandelier earrings cascaded, "you will break many hearts tonight, but I want you to remember one last instruction." She looked up and met her reflected eyes. "Mystery is the key. The more you elude my husband, the more determined he will become to conquer you. You must not let him corner you before I give you permission."

Her hands lightly caressed Sloan as she spoke. "Yes, Miss."

"Say it sweet, sweet girl." She nuzzled the soft skin above her collar and below the ear, as her hands roamed Sloan's body.

"I must not allow your husband to corner me before you give me permission." Came the breathless reply.

Danielle gripped Taylor's jaw and turned her face until their lips were practically touching. Taylor began to lean in, wanting to taste those delicious lips. "Good girl," she purred, then pulled away with a smile of satisfaction.

"It's ShowTime!"

~o~O~o~

Matt Sharp was running late, he still had to change for the party and at this rate, it would be half over before he arrived. He gave a heavy sigh as he gathered his things, it had been that kind of a day.

Editing on Demarcation was done, but the business of dealing with the upcoming premiere was a nightmare. This had been exacerbated by Dana's focus on the party planning and Gabriel's looming departure. He needed some time to refocus before tonight, but Gabi had too much on her plate and their regular 'play toys' would not really satisfy his needs. Besides, by the time he made the arrangements, the party would be over and Danielle would be rightfully pissed

His mind drifted to Dana and her husband. He had noticed her responses around him, despite the fact he had kept his attitude strictly professional. There was an attentiveness that she displayed as if she were breathlessly awaiting his command. He really liked that, but her husband was a complication that worried him.

Matt had yet to meet Dana's husband and knew only that he was an actor. Most actors were all show and ego, and he worried that the man might not be so enamored of the idea of letting his petite little bride play the kind of games Matt liked. Despite Danielle's reassuring that she had met the young man and felt that he might be amenable to the possibilities, Matt Sharp was pragmatic enough to know that there could be no certainty until it was tested in the heat of the moment.

The fact that Dana's spouse had been suddenly called away for a commercial shoot had added to his frustrations. He had been assured, by Danielle, that the five of them would have a frank and open discussion about the possibilities over after-party cocktails tonight. Now that plan was on hold and Matt was facing the party without relief, and could only look forward to the final farewell session they would be having tomorrow, with Gabi.

Matt had a sudden inspiration. With all the other activity, he had forgotten that new girl that Danielle had been teasing him with. What was her name? Tayla? Kayla? Matt realized, as soon as he saw her, that Danielle had not needed a new PA as much as she had needed this particular PA. He smirked at the image of putting the tall, willowy blonde through her paces.

'Yes,' he grinned. 'Maybe a little refreshment at the party is just what the doctor ordered!'

Why had he not noticed it before? With all the transitions (he chuckled at his choice of word) going on in the office, he had failed to notice the amount of time Danielle was occupied with other things. He had also noticed the subtle little ways this new girl tried to get his attention. He wondered how far Danielle had gone with this one. He knew there had been no sex between them. Danielle would never do that without letting him know.

Thinking about it, he began to realize how busy he had been. Looking at it now, he could see the signs that she was being edged. Edging was a Danielle Sharp specialty. She loved to take submissive little pets right up to the edge of orgasm, then back them off. Like an opera diva holding a high note for an extended period of time, Danielle's goal was to keep a sub on edge for as long as possible before finally allowing them to earn the reward.

Crossing his outer office, Matt's secretary called out to him, "I'm sorry Mr. Sharp, but I have Thomas Dern for you. He says it's urgent."

"Tell him I already....Damn....I'll take it." He wheeled back toward his inner office.

"Line two, sir."

He stopped at the door, giving her a tight smile. "Thanks, Marjorie, you can go on home now and I'll see you Tuesday."

He closed the door and walked behind his desk. Sitting down with a sigh, and lifting the phone as his voice dripped with false bonhomie, "Thomas, what an unexpected pleasure!"

~o~O~o~

Dana was feeling nervous as the guests began to arrive. She was dressed much more conservatively than Taylor. She had found it easy to start calling her by that name because Taylor barely resembled her husband, Sloan. She had been transformed into a magnificently plumed bird and was making quite a sensation. In fact, they both were.

Dana wore a glittery, halter top taffeta A-Line mini dress that exposed her stocking tops and suspender belt when she turned too fast. Danielle had been effusive in her praise and could barely control her hands around either of them when she was nearby. The two potential submissives were barely able to contain themselves and it was shaping up to be a very wild and crazy party.

As soon as she was in her own costume, Danielle had pulled Dana aside and made sure she understood what was expected of her.

"Do not let anyone corner Taylor. That is the key to the evening. If anyone gets a hand between her legs it will ruin everything for her. The fact we have a cross dresser at our party will be no big deal for us, but if Matt finds out that Taylor is a boy, his ardor will wane a bit."

"But, I thought Gabriel..."

"Yes, yes. I know, but Matt had to see Gabriella as a woman before he became comfortable with our little Gabi girl. Matt is a man of his generation, despite his sophistication and worldly wisdom. His generation places a huge taboo on sex between men. Matt can deny that intellectually, but it still colors his emotional responses. Once Matt began to see Gabi as a woman, his conflict over it faded. Now, we both love her so much that she is a part of us."

Dana took a while to process this information but finally nodded her acceptance that it was true.

"My dear sweet Dana, I know my husband would easily accept you into our little inner circle, but he will struggle with adding your husband as more than a plaything for me. We must make him see that she is capable of being so much more than just that."

Danielle punctuated her words with a soft, lingering kiss that left Dana breathless.

"Go now. Greet our guests. My husband will seek an assignation with our little Taylor the tease. You must help us to derail any intimacy."

"But, how do you know that Mr. Sharp will even be interested in her? he has been cool and businesslike all week when he is around either of us."

Danielle giggled and shook her head. "My dear child, Matt Sharp can smell a submissive little tart at a hundred meters. He denies himself these pleasures when he is working, then rewards himself when he feels the need to indulge. It is about control. He holds onto it with a tight rein. This makes his little moments of indulgence all the sweeter."

She ran a finger along Dana's cheek, tracing her skin from ear to jaw to lips.

"It also makes those moments so much more memorable for those of us who share them."

~o~O~o~

The entire lower floor of the palatial home was festooned with bright lights and pulsating rhythms reverberated from a Brazilian samba band that had ensconced itself near the pool. The pool and adjacent deck area were brightly lit and offered a stunning view of Los Angeles and the ocean beyond. Everywhere you looked were brightly costumed men and women in varied levels of sobriety and intimacy.

Danielle fluttered from room to room, greeting guests and mingling. If Dana and Taylor were bright diamonds, Danielle was cold black onyx.
Her outfit was a matching counterpoint to Taylors, but where Taylor wore shiny clear gems and bright colored feathers, Danielle wore glimmering black metallic bra and panties with dark beads and swooping black feathers. They looked like yin and yang, dark and light, angel and devil.

Dana was constantly losing sight of Taylor as the evening progressed but made sure to keep checking up on her wandering spouse. As long as Taylor stayed downstairs, there were few worries, as the staircase was roped off and a security man was making sure the party did not wander up to the bedrooms.

She was, however, shocked to see the way Taylor flirted as she fluttered around the party. Taylor was in her element, she was giggling, laughing, flirting, and teasing with abandon. She seemed to be having a ball, and nobody would have guessed that she was a man. In fact, as the evening wore on, it became increasingly difficult for Dana to see her as anything but what she appeared to be. This fact both terrified and aroused the young wife.

It was well after 9:00 and the party was in full swing when Matt Sharp made his appearance with a young woman on his arm. She looked vaguely familiar, but Dana could not place her. She was wearing a silvery sheath dress with a long slit up the left thigh that showcased her long legs. Despite the smile on her face, there was an air of sadness in her eyes as she seemed to cling to Matt as if her life depended on it.
Matt was wearing a horned devil outfit. It was also open in front down to his waist, exposing his broad chest as well as his firm abs. A cape hung from his shoulders and the two small horns on his forehead looked real. His pants looked painted on as they descended into shining black boots that came to just above the knees. The V of his chest and inverted V of his legs drew the eye like arrows to his crotch. The sight made her blush as she could not help wondering if that bulge was all him.

If he noticed her gaze, he made no indication as he waved her to his presence.

"Dana, this is Celia, I would like you to take her up to the far bedroom and sit with her until Gabi arrives."

She began to protest, but his eyes would brook no argument," Yes, Sir. Please come with me, Miss."
The woman looked as though she might protest being abandoned, but Matt raised a hand to forestall her. "It will be alright. Gabi will be with you shortly. Please trust me on this." She nodded and followed Dana. The man at the foot of the stairs released the rope so they could pass.

~o~O~o~

Fred Ibarra and his four-man team were getting off a plane under a scorching sun in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. As they walked across the tarmac, they were met by a government official who welcomed them and whisked them through customs with barely a pause. They soon cleared the terminal and were led to a pair of armored G-Class SUVs. As soon as he was in the vehicle, he opened a small attaché case containing four automatic pistols which he and Bobby Earl loaded and added to their empty holsters.

He hated the Middle East with a passion, but he went where they sent him. He supposed it was a good idea for the team to be well away from So-Cal and a certain gang-style execution site, at least until the police caught the 'cartel members' that lit the place up. He had actually expected to catch hell for the mess, but when he made his report, all George did was nod his head and toss them a bodyguard job for some Saudi prince.

He idly thought of Taylor Sloane. He knew she was a guy underneath, but he also knew that there was something about her that made him want to get to know her better. The way she busted that big fucker's nose was pure tiger, despite the soft and shy exterior.

Oh well, he was half a world away from her, and he had to be patient. Besides, he was sure the wait wouldn't be too long. His team was good and all that any witnesses saw was a big black Escalade with tinted windows rolling in and rolling back out. As soon as the cops had found the drugs, the videos, the dossiers and associated files that Marco Lane had on his comp, they were locked in like a pit bull on drug cartels and street gangs.

Still, he couldn't get her out of his mind, and it was a strange feeling. One that he hadn't felt since he was in high school. It was weird, but when he first looked into her eyes, something just clicked. Now it was like an itch he couldn't scratch, and it had him wondering.

He looked up at Bobby Earl and noticed the wicked smirk on his face as if he was reading Fred's mind. "Shut the fuck up, Bobby Earl!" He remonstrated in mock anger as Bobby Earl broke up laughing. Soon they were both laughing like schoolboys that have just gotten away with some prank.

"Fucking blabbermouth!" He grinned, shaking his head.

~o~O~o~

Half a world away, Taylor Sloane was giddy with excitement. She had flirted shamelessly and had to defend her honor, at least, a dozen times as she was stroked, fondled, kissed, petted and pinched. Luckily Danielle or Dana had always been close enough to keep her out of trouble, but the real problem was that Taylor was a girl, A flirty, sexy, bubbly, and eager girl that craved the attention.

She had felt herself on the verge of giving in on several occasions. She was so drunk that she had very few inhibitions left. The odd thing was, her intoxication was not drug or alcohol induced. It was merely her own exuberance at being a woman that made her feel so free.

She was talking to a young costumed couple. the woman was solid, but not pudgy. She was dressed as a belly dancer, with all the bells and tassels. She looked sexy and was a bit drunk. She could not seem to keep her hands off of Taylor as they talked, and her partner looked like he was hoping for a threesome as he held back watching her make moves on Sloan.

She felt a presence behind her and knew it was Matt Sharp before she turned her head to look. As soon as she turned, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was masculinity personified and his eyes were locked on hers as he leaned on a wall sipping a cocktail. Taylor tuned out the couple she had been conversing with and watched the way Matt sauntered across the room toward her. His eyes never left Taylors as he took her hand and spoke up,

"Hello Michael, Naomi will you excuse us please?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her to him and led her outside toward the verandah.

~o~O~o~

"Taylor. Thank goodness I found you. Dana is looking for you. She said you have an urgent phone call."

Danielle's eyes were twinkling as Taylor blushed crimson while struggling to extract herself from Matt's clutches and adjust her costume, before rushing into the house. She smirked at her husband who had noticed his wife hovering nearby several minutes before interrupting his little snack.

"You are an evil and sadistic bitch, my darling," was his matter-of-fact comment.

"Oh Matt, don't pout so. I really needed to talk to you, and I promise I will deliver her on a platter in a few minutes."

"Talk about...."

"Celia Cole. Whatever is she doing here?"

"Ahhhh. Thomas Dern called in a favor. Seems the press is hounding her, she had nowhere to go. Thomas promised to collect her tonight and he said if we babysat her for a few hours, he would make it up to us."

Matt shrugged, as Danielle considered. She knew that the Mormon had made his reputation on trading on obligations. He used favors like casinos used markers, and he always paid them off.

"Alright," she nodded. I can see why she is here, but this party was for Gabi. Why has she been stuck up there babysitting? We could have had anyone up there holding her hand."

"Gabi insisted. She said she realizes the effort we've made with the party, but really doesn't want to face it all. She promised to come down for the announcement at midnight."

Danielle's eyes were moist, "I do hope she will be safe. I worry about her."

"Me too, but she has to do it, and we have to let her do it. I offered to come with her, but she said no. She needs to do it on her terms."

Danielle sighed and nodded as Matt wrapped his arms around her and held her as she pulled herself back together. Finally, she stepped back, taking a deep breath.

"You look spectacular, by the way."

She spared her husband a smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Gabi will be down in a few minutes to make her announcement. I seem to have stupidly left my phone on the bedroom dresser. How about I send my PA up to grab it in about forty-five minutes?"

"Better make it sooner. If I have to trade favors with Thomas Dern tonight, I'll need the extra time," he grinned.

Danielle winked and turned back to the party as her husband sat in the garden shadows listening to the pulsating Latin beat.

~o~O~o~

Gabi and Celia were fussing with each other's hair and make-up. They acted more like a pair of middle school girls on a sleepover than two adult women. It was understandable, in a way. Celia had been a plain girl until well into her teens. She had always been tall, gangly, and awkward. The massive braces lack of coordination made her an outcast, and the other girls had ostracized her.

She'd had no close friends, and her parents did not approve of the loose morals of American society. She was not allowed to listen to music, television was severely restricted, and boys were a firm 'NO'. Her clothing was never in fashion. Her hair was never properly styled. Her social life was nonexistent, and her only entertainment had been library books and her own imagination.

Celia had discovered theater when she had to change out an elective her junior year and found herself stuck in a drama class. She fell in love and poured herself into it. By senior year, she had become a star. Boys were asking her out. Girls wanted to be her friend. Her body had filled out nicely. The braces were off and the ugly duckling had become a swan.

She lucked into a TV commercial quite by accident. There was an open audition, and one of her friends told her about it. Knowing her parents already disapproved of her acting, she had lied to them about doing a research assignment for school and snuck off to try out.

Amazingly, she was signed for the commercial and asked about representation. Not having a clue what to do, she called her drama teacher who knew a guy that would be willing to handle it for her. Since she had already turned eighteen, she did not need to let her parents know. She got a nice fee for the commercial and used it to hire a photographer and create a portfolio for herself.

By the time she graduated from High School, her aspirations had outgrown Danbury, CT. She left home with barely a goodbye and vicious recriminations by her parents who angrily informed her she would burn in hell. She packed her few belongings and took a train to New York City. What followed were long, grueling and degrading years of waitressing, cattle calls, and lessons in acting, singing and dancing. She shared a small apartment with three other aspiring actresses and dreamed of making it.

After struggling for more than three years, a close friend convinced her to try Hollywood, as she was very photogenic. She had taken a bus all the way from New York (talk about cliché) and finally ended up with Thomas Dern, who had purchased her contract from the sweet-talking sleazebag that she had originally signed with. Now she was so close to her dream she could taste it. Celia Cole, the might-have-been girlfriend of a comatose movie star that she had never met, was attending an elegant ball at the palatial home of Matt and Danielle Sharp.
She felt like Cinderella!

At the stroke of midnight, Dana Taylor appeared and told Gabi she was needed downstairs. Dana remained with Celia as Gabi went to face the crowd of well-wishers, hangers-on, and loved ones.

"Where is she going?"

Dana responded, "She is making her farewell speech."

~o~O~o~

Anthony Gabriel Ruiz was dead, and now was the time to bury him. Gabi slowly descended the stairs, trembling inwardly. She stopped at the bottom to see the crowd of people in the large living area. The musicians were silent and the conversation stopped as all eyes turned to Gabi, who stood between Matt and Danielle. She looked at Matt first, and he gave a reassuring nod, then took her right hand as Danielle's fingers slid into her left.

"My name is Gabriella Louisa Vargas. Most of you have known me as Anthony Gabriel Ruiz. I am announcing now and forever to the world that I am no longer that person. I renounce all claim to any association with Enrique Rodolfo Ruiz who is my biological father. I renounce all claim to any inheritance that might be due to me from my biological father from this date going forward. I am legally bound to my mother and her family line under her maiden name, Graciela Louisa Vargas. I swear that I am making this announcement of my own free will, and am acting under no compulsion or duress.

"I also wish to declare my desire to complete my transition from male to female and since my home country does not allow transgendered people to officially change their gender status, I have applied for United States citizenship with the intention of renouncing my Republic of the Philippines citizenship as soon as it is practicable. This declaration I also swear is being made freely and without compulsion or duress.

"I am swearing to this declaration on this date, 7 February, of the year 2016, and request that those of you who can support me in my decision sign as witnesses to this statement. Thank You"

There began a thunder of applause and cheers from the guests as more than one guest lifted a glass in a toast to Gabi. Danielle pulled Gabi in for a long deep kiss, then presented her to Matt who gave her a lingering kiss of her own. By this time, a long paper scroll was unwrapped and placed on a table nearby, Gabi signed followed by Matt and Danielle. Most of the crowd lined up to sign and offer personal congratulations, kisses, and hugs.

Matt and Danielle offered thanks to each guest and thanked them for coming. Those who were too inebriated to drive were offered a driver at the Sharp's expense, but most of them had a driver or had made arrangements already. It was close to 1:00 am when the final guests were gone and silence descended.

~o~O~o~

"Taylor, be a love and fetch my phone. I believe that I left it on my bedroom dressing table."

"Yes, Miss," Taylor climbed the stairs, knowing that the moment was here. This was what she had been preparing for, and her heart was racing. She opened the door into the shadowed room. Although there was no moon, the outside lights around the pool area and the bright
stars cast a hazy pallor into the room, and she left the door open as she crossed to the dresser. She stood at the dresser and saw him in the mirror sitting in a chair, his face half shrouded in darkness.

"Well now. It would seem that someone has been a very naughty girl."

"I'm sorry?"

"Not yet, but you will be."

"Ms. Sharp sent me to get her...."

"...her phone?"

He pointed to the device resting on the night table beside his chair. his legs were crossed casually, but she could feel the tension, the potential energy emanating from him as he watched her. She began to turn to face him.

"Don't move," he commanded, and she froze, pulling her hands up as if to ward off a blow.

"Put your hands down. Place them on the dresser, palms flat." She hesitated and his voice took a hard edge of command, "Now."

She obeyed him immediately.

"Better," his voice became more soothing, "Now lean on your hands and move your feet back away from the dresser."

She obeyed without question, watching him as he sat there, calmly issuing commands.

"My wife has told me that you are to be her gift to me."

"Sir?"

"Come now, I am sure you know exactly the kind of things my wife and I are into. Are you truly not interested in being a part of that?"

"Well...that is...I was...." Taylor stammered, lowering her eyes.

Matt uncrossed his legs and rose, crossing the room toward her. "Stay" he commanded.

He moved his body tight behind her, hands on her hips, leaning across her back as his voice caressed her ear. "Remain perfectly still, my pet." He began sliding them up her sides, his chin resting on her shoulder as his eyes watched her in the mirror.

"Such a naughty little tease." He bit down on her ear, making her gasp. "You like to tease, don't you?"

She tried to shake her head, eyes lowered in shame.

He tightened his hands on her hips, painfully. Her frightened glance at the mirror revealing the anger in his eyes.

"Don't you ever dare to lie to me, you tramp. Do you really think that I don't see and hear what you do at my studio? Do you think it's a secret? Everyone is talking about that hot little tease that Danielle hired. Hell, most of them are sure she is tapping this cute little ass, Is she?"

Taylor shook her head, "No sir....honestly."

"That explains a lot." He grinned at her. "No wonder you are such a tease. She isn't fucking you....but you wish she was, don't you, slut?"

Taylor saw the intransigence in his eyes and knew that arguing was useless.

"Yes Sir," she confessed while averting her eyes.

"You like to tease men. You like the power it gives you. You like knowing that they want you, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered.

"Every act has consequences, you know. I think it is time for you to accept the consequences of your actions, my pet."

He ground his hardness into her ass and then stepped back releasing her. She watched him in the mirror as he drew his arms out of the top of his costume, exposing his chiseled torso. He stepped back until he reached the bed, drawing her with him by force of will. She followed him as if in a trance.

"Undress me," He commanded.

It was as if time had folded as she remembered standing three feet from him, and the very next instant she was on her knees before him, reaching for the waistband of his costume. Matt towered above her, imperiously, like a Roman Emperor. He watched her as she felt his power envelope her. She wanted him. She hungered for him. She needed to please him. It was like her entire existence was focused on this single pivotal moment in her life.

~o~O~o~

Danielle was listening intently to the phone at her ear. Dana was fidgeting next to her on the sofa. Gabi and Celia were doing each other's toenails and talking about makeup, movies, music, and guys. Danielle rose to her feet and pulled Dana along with her as they crept up the hall to the master bedroom. They paused briefly at the open door, listening to the sounds of...

Danielle opened the door and stepped inside. The light from the hallway was enough to adequately illuminate the room.

"Well well. what have we here?"

Dana was stunned. She watched in amazement as Taylor was eagerly gagging on Matt's huge cock. Her eyes popped open as Danielle's words registered, and she struggled to back off but Matt grabbed her head and began slowly fucking her face.

"Not now, Danielle. I'm almost done here. Pet, get back to work, and don't you dare spill a drop."

He removed his hands and she saw Taylor slump for a moment in resignation, then return to attacking the cock with gusto. She felt a cold grip on her heart as she realized this was her Sloan sucking cock like a pro.

Danielle's voice was a hot caress as the tall woman stood behind her with hands on her shoulders and began whispering into Dana's ear.

"MMMMM isn't that so sexy. There is nothing like a girl's first mouthful of cock, is there? I mean, it is her first, isn't it? It's just so hard to tell when she seems to be such a natural cock slut."

Dana felt her own arousal growing, as Danielle's hands slid down along her sides and caressed her through her dress. Dana moaned and leaned back into the stronger woman.

"What do you think of my new girl, Matt?" Danielle purred.

"She is one hot piece of ass and I can't wait to fill her pussy up"

Danielle made a sad face. "Awwww, quel dommage!" She mock-pouted.

She then removed her hands from Dana and clapped once, loudly, speaking in a commanding voice, "SLOAN! THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Taylor jumped back as if scalded.

~o~O~o~

Matt sat at the large conference table, sneaking occasional glances at Sloan and Dana who were huddled together on the sofa with Gabi and Celia. Across from him sat Thomas Dern with his briefcase open. Danielle was standing to one side, leaning on a chair.

"So, let me get this straight. Celia Cole has never met Brandin Jessup, and you used your comatose client to get her into my movie."

"Well first, I would not put it in those terms, exactly...and second....yes."

"And why should we be willing to cast her? She has virtually no screen experience apart from a few television commercials. I grant you, the camera loves her, but this is a huge favor that you are asking from me."

Thomas Dern met Matt Sharp's gaze without blinking. "On the contrary, Matt, This will put you into my debt."

"In what way? Look....we just saw the commercials, but that is no guarantee that she can deliver the goods. So the way I see it, you are asking me to be indebted over a pig in a poke. Sorry Miss Cole, I meant no insult."

Celia looked non-plussed at the mention of her name and returned to chatting with Gabi.

"Matt, it is a quid pro quo for what I am giving you on this deal. Her later performance notwithstanding, anything she contributes to your film will be a bonus beyond our deal here."

"I don't see that. I have my film on schedule and set to begin bright and early Monday morning. I have the main cast and crew set to go. So what exactly are you adding to the pot that would make me indebted to you?"

"Sloan Taylor....or Taylor Sloane, if you prefer. If you want him, you have to accept her. It's a package deal."

"Wait a minute, you mean...."

"Yes. Sloan is my client, and if you want him for your film, you will have to accept Celia. It will save you millions if you take my offer. You cannot pull out of Soft Kill at this late date, you are in too deep."

~o~O~o~

Gabi saw Thomas Dern and Celia Cole to Dern's car. After kissing Celia goodbye, she looked into the man's eyes and smiled. Quid pro quo. You and the Sharps are even. Everyone gets what they want. I like that.

The man they call The Mormon looked up at her with a stern face but a twinkle in his eyes.

"Me, too."

~o~O~o~

End of Part One

Chapter 1

There have been a number of major turning points in my life. Most of them are pretty much the standard fare, birthdays, major holidays, vacations, things like that. There have been three particular events that stand out in my mind as being outside the realm of typical and pretty close to being surreal.

I suppose I should introduce myself, as well as this story. I will be up front in sharing that many of the events that I will relate may be less than accurate. I can only attest to the veracity of the events that I witnessed first-hand. As the years have passed many of those memories have softened a bit around the edges, and may have faded a bit. Many other events that I will recount have been shared with me by those who were directly involved, and are tainted not only by their own bias in the telling, but by my own biases in the re-telling. I will freely confess that I do most certainly have biases of my own and feel strongly about the actions of many of those people who were a part of the events I describe.

Finally, I have done my best to piece together many other events from a variety of sources, not the least of which are the internet, news reports, anecdotes, wild-ass stories, and vague recollections dimmed by the haze of drugs, sex and rock-and-roll. My name is Alan Council. I am the lead guitarist of Geechie Mance. I am probably the best able to piece together Tiggy's story, not because I have any particular talent as an historian, but because I am outsider enough to be objective about the founders of said band. I am also most qualified because I am the closest friend of Tiggy Anderson, renowned in rock history as the inspirational force that propelled the band he named to the heights of success.

So, where to begin? Since this is Tig's story more than anyone else's, I suppose it would be best to begin with the day I met Lesley Dana Anderson. It was 1965 and he had yet to gain the famous 'Tiggy' moniker. He was just Lesley, not Les. He was also 9-years old, almost two full years younger than me. My family had just moved to Santa Barbara, California. It was summer, and I didn't know anyone. I was just wandering the neighborhood and noticed a little girl with dark curly hair crying in the shade of a Eucalyptus tree.

I remember the first glimpse of her swollen lip and the dark imprint that covered half her face. I asked her what had happened but she couldn't respond. She sniffled and sobbed and within a few minutes I was seated beside her, my arm draped across her narrow shoulders as she began to pour out her pain. It took a while to get the whole story. There were fits and starts and gaps, but she painted a pretty vivid picture of an emotionally neglected child, an alcoholic mother, and a psychotically unstable step-father. I also learned, during the tale, that this raven-haired beauty was a boy.

I am a normal hetero guy and have never felt a hint of sexual excitement around other boys. I cannot really say why I wasn't put off by this news. I know that my own father, good man that he is, would probably have walloped me if he had seen me cuddling another boy. All I know is that we connected some way on a plane that exists outside of sexuality and gender. I was not a boy snuggling another boy. I was a friend offering what meager comfort I could to a friend in need of said comfort.

From that day until this, we were the best of friends.

Before I recount the events that led to the first major turning point in my life, I feel as if I should answer all of those who might consider my words actionable in some form. I have spoken with lawyers about what I should and what I should not say. My only reply to anyone who takes issue with my commentary is very short and pungent. Fuck Off. I am recalling events to the best of my recollection and I challenge you to prove that anything I say is a blatant falsehood. In other words, sue me and be damned or shut the fuck up.

Over the course of that first meeting, Tig shared with me a veritable comedy of errors that led to a prime beating by his step-dad. Tiggy was always quiet and shy and was never allowed to socialize with other children. In fact, his mother usually banished him to his bedroom with a cuff around the ears and orders to shut up and don't come out unless called for. On this particular occasion, Tigs was doing what he usually did, creating his own little fantasy play world wherein he acted out dozens of roles. on this particular occasion, he had the misfortune to be overheard by his step-dad whilst acting out the part of the rescued damsel in distress.

Needless to say, the bastard was less than amused when he returned home from the track to find his wife passed out drunk in front of the TV and her faggoty little son dressing and playing the part of a girl in the back bedroom. When I say dressing, I mean only that he was wearing an oversize tee shirt that hung to his knees, his hair tied up in bunches, and a bit of color on his lips. It was enough to make said father figure leave a hand-shaped imprint on one side of Tiggy's face. He then grabbed the child by the hair and dragged him in to face his mother who was barely conscious.

Her inability to answer his screaming inquisition with any semblance of coherent speech caused him to redouble his brutish behavior as he backhanded the boy and tore into his lethargic bride. As she became more aware, it became a bit of a battle royale and by Tiggy's account she gave as good as she got (being a largish woman). Needless to say, the happy couple parted for the first and last time with both sides screaming epithets to the other. After the departure of daddy dearest, the woman spent several moments focusing on the image of her only son.

With venom in her voice, she focused on the badly battered child and said, "Now look what you've done! Go away. You disgust me."

Tiggy fled to the shade of a massive eucalyptus tree down the street.

Now that we have hit the first and most influential turning point in my life, I guess we need to talk about me. I am an Air Force brat. I was born in France but have lived in England and both the east and west coast of the United States. Anyone that knows much about the Air Force has noticed that this much travel is pretty rare. Most career officers might only serve on four or five bases in a thirty-year career. My family moved to four in less than eleven. I think it probably had something to do with my dad's specialty. he was a combat systems officer, and with the cold war heating up, and Viet Nam in high gear, he spent a lot of time helping integrate new weapon systems into various aircraft squadrons.

Before you start with all the shit about my dad the warmonger, fuck off. I love my father and he has always been a rock for me. I did not believe in the war in Viet Nam, I think he was less than thrilled about it, as well, but as an officer, he did his duty as he saw it. That's all I have to say on the subject with this exception. He taught me to question any dogmatic belief system. That includes the agitators that pushed us into the war and the protestors that actively, and sometimes violently, opposed it.

My father never yelled at me, and he taught me that in a true and open debate/dialogue, the person who has to shout down his opponent is wrong. Any and all beliefs are to be challenged by reason and proven or disproven on their merits. Only the mindless drone resorts to violence or diatribe to prove a point. That was true in the 1960s and it is just as true today. He taught me to always question my own beliefs and to validate them through intelligent and cogent reason.

He was also a strong influence on Tiggy, and our friendship. This was the mid-60s with the growing counter-culture, rebellion, long hair, and free love. Most of my father's generation would take one look at Tiggy and say something unflattering about his sexuality, or become violent. My father talked to me and to Tiggy as equals. He questioned our beliefs and motivations, while also encouraging us to explore life through music. You see, my parents were accomplished musicians, and our home was always filled with music. This was the bedrock on which we built our friendship.

Mom plays the piano and organ. She also has a beautiful voice and loves to sing. Dad plays almost any stringed instrument as well as the piano. I was never taught to play so much as I assimilated it. Dad has a number of guitars and we have a very nice 50s era Baldwin Acrosonic 36 inch upright piano in a deep mahogany finish that even today has a sweet timbre that can reverberate into your very soul. We may have attended Bethel Church of Christ every Sunday, but I think I truly worshiped at the Baldwin shrine.

Anyway, music was ingrained in my genetic code. When I met Tiggy I could play most of the popular songs of the day. I loved doing Dick Dale riffs and had a 1959 butterscotch yellow Gibson Les Paul Junior. If I heard it, I would grind it out until I could play it. I copied all the greats of the era, but Dick Dale and B.B. King were my favorites. I also have to admit that even though I was only eleven years old, I was pretty cocky about my ability with a guitar.

That first day around Tiggy, I brought him home. Mom fed him lunch (homemade vegetable soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. He ended up staying until almost dark. All day long, nothing was said about Tig's hair (shoulder length and curly), appearance (emaciated, pale and wearing a handprint on one cheek), or clothing (ragged and dirty). At one point we found ourselves in the family room with guitars along the wall and our Baldwin along another.

"Wow. Are these all yours?"

"No, silly. The piano is Mom's and the guitars are dad's and mine." I chuckled.

"What's this?" he was standing in front of a flat stringed box.

"That's a zither. It's like a cross between an autoharp and a steel guitar. It has a unique sound that can really fill a room."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it has a deep resonance that can make enough sound to match any three guitars. Let me show you."

I moved behind the display table and took the low seat. I strummed lightly a few times, making minor adjustments then broke into 'Wayfaring Stranger', which is one of my favorites. The sound filled the room and I could literally see goose bumps on Tig's arms as the music reverberated. His eyes were wide as the music seemed to engulf him. When I finished the song, he sat motionless for a few moments before shaking himself like a wet dog.

"That was....amazing."

I smiled as I saw the effect the music had had on him. I knew at that moment that music was in his soul and would always be. It is no slam on anyone else, and I certainly do not claim any superiority over those who do not feel that deep intrinsic connection with music, but I do feel sorry for those who don't have that bond. Music has enriched my life so much, and I cannot imagine a world in which it didn't play an integral part in every facet of my existence.

He gave me a look of mixed despair, hope, and fear as he whispered softly, "Alan....could you...w-would you teach me to play?"

I smiled at him and nodded my head. It was obvious that we were going to be kindred spirits. I picked up a lightweight Kay archtop acoustic and handed it to him, showing him how to hold it. I picked up my own Gibson LG-1 acoustic and began showing him how to tune it. I sat at the piano and was very surprised at how well he understood pitch. I played an E on the piano and he tuned the E string without having to replay the keyboard. Once he heard the note it was locked into his memory and he had no trouble remembering it.

Once the guitar was tuned, I began showing him a few basic chords. Now, I know that everyone talks about Tiggy Anderson as a guitar prodigy, like he just picked it up and played it. Well, that's a bunch of bullshit. Tiggy worked at it and learned quickly. He never forgot anything. I guess he didn't so much learn the guitar as he absorbed it.

Within a week, we were jamming together with my family or just the two of us. It was during this time that I had my second great revelation/turning point, and it was a tough one to swallow. Tig was better than me. Now I don't mean he could play Mr. Eliminator, or Three O'clock Blues better than me. I mean he was truly talented where I was just a brilliant mimic. Wow, that's still a hard nut to swallow after all these years. I mean I could play it dead-perfect spot-on exactly like I learned it every single time. I don't think Tiggy ever played the same song the same way twice in a row. He would just roll off on these wild side trips and turn a song that I had played a thousand times before into something that only barely resembled the original.

It was frightening, and I was extremely jealous. Looking back on my life, I could have easily become Salieri to Tiggy's Mozart. I could have let that jealousy burn a hole in my soul and turn into something ugly. Thank God my father was able to help me put it into perspective.

He took me aside one night after Tigs had gone home. "Talk to me about it, Alan."

I knew exactly what 'it' was. I had been struggling to hide my emotions, but music has a way of stripping off the masks and revealing us in stark cold reality. "It's just so unfair....I mean....I have worked so hard to really be good at.....well...."

"And now some strange kid that never picked up a guitar in his life comes in and blows your world up?"

I nodded my head emphatically. "YES!"

"And that is unfair?"

"YES!"

"Because you deserve more than Lesley?"

"Yes....well maybe not so much deserve as...well...I worked so hard."

"So, do you remember the day you brought him home the first time?"

"Yes"

"What was that bright red mark on his face from?"

"He said his....uhm....his step-dad hit him."

"You think Lesley deserved that?"

"Of course not!"

"So who decides when someone has paid their dues, or who deserves what?"

"I...uh....I guess we each decide for ourselves."

"I agree with you. So do you really think music owes you something that it doesn't owe Lesley?"

I shook my head, "No, sir."

"Son, I don't think you've really thought your feelings through. You taught Lesley to play the guitar. Without your involvement, your friend might have gone through his entire life without ever learning how to play. Can you imagine what your own life would be like without music in it?"

I shuddered at the thought. I had never really examined my good fortune before.

"If that had not happened, if Lesley had not learned to play the guitar, where would you be? Would your life be better? Worse? The same?"

I thought about my life over the past weeks since meeting Tiggy. "Worse. Much worse."

"You know, son. I know that you have taught Lesley a lot. It is a huge gift that you gave him, but it's a two-way street."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, son."

I spent that evening thinking about it....a LOT. When I woke up the next morning, it was staring me in the face. This massive truth was towering over me like a monolith. Maybe Tiggy wasn't the only one of us that could learn from the other. I had managed to share some of my technical skill with Tigs, and it had blossomed as his own technique had developed.

Why couldn't Tiggy help me to find my own creativity?

Almost every day we were in my room, my garage, my back yard, or my living room playing music, listening to music, discussing music, or writing music. Tiggy and I didn't always agree on what amounted to good music. We both loved to play, but I could never really get into the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds. To me, it was too disjointed, too radically different. Tiggy, on the other hand, just loved it. He would go on and on about the brilliance of Brian Wilson and I would just shake my head and try to change the subject. You had to pick and choose your battles with Tiggy. If he felt strongly about something he would hammer it over and over again until you either agreed or managed to distract him.

We both loved Procol Harum's Whiter Shade of Pale and the Beatles' Sgt Pepper album. I think this was where Tiggy first got into the idea of music as a bridge. I mean, we all saw how music brought people together, but I never really understood how anyone could write an entire album's worth of music around a single concept. At that time, every album had an assortment of cover songs, regurgitated hits, and one or maybe two potential hit singles. The whole music industry was built around creating a hit song with a decent B-side, then filling in the rest with fluff. What Tiggy was talking about was standing the music industry on its ear and changing it forever. He was not even 12-years old!

It boggled my mind. Here we were struggling just to write a song, how could any artist have the brains, stamina, and creativity to write 10-12 songs for a single album? Moreover, how could they find the creative vision to pull off something like that? It would be like turning a single record into a motion picture, with a beginning middle and end that told a story from start to finish. Looking at Tiggy, and watching as the gears turned, I was awed by the realization that my friend was a genius.

School for us was a bit weird, to say the least. the Beatles had made long hair fashionable, but it also created a situation where the school began to institute certain rules of dress in order to maintain the illusion of control. The war was heating up in Viet Nam. Hippies were migrating to the west coast, especially to the San Francisco area. Hollywood was also popular, and it was becoming apparent that political change was in the air. More and more, young people were becoming a force to be reckoned with.

As with all social reform movements, the government, and the media were making inroads to co-opt the popularity and bend it to their own will. The Monkees were at the height of their popularity. The Smothers Brothers were facing their first encounters with censorship. Web spent many evenings watching The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island, Hogan's Heroes, Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie. I never noticed anything unusual about Tiggy. He just was my friend, my very best friend.

It was also a big year in history. A spark in the cockpit of the Apollo I spacecraft during a routine test took the lives of astronauts Virgil I (Gus) Grissom, Edward H. White II, and Roger B. Chaffee before they could escape from the oxygen-fueled conflagration. Despite this disastrous beginning, men would actually walk on the moon 30 months later. It was an amazing time to be alive. Change was in the air, and you could almost taste it with every breath, or maybe that was just the southern California smog. Looking back, we were only children, but we had a firm belief in ourselves and our ability to change the world.

Tiggy was often a guest in my home. He spent the night more times than I can count. We talked about everything. Sex was definitely a topic for late night discussion, and we described acts that defy reality since neither of us had any real experience. With no internet, porn was dirty magazines at the liquor store down the street, glossy magazines covers with buxom women in scanty bathing suits. These were more an unattainable goal than a fact of life for a pair of 12-year olds. Neither of us had older siblings to show us naked pictures of women, and despite the fact that all the other boys talked about getting into their fathers' porn stash, I was never able to find my own dad's.

We experimented with sex, meaning we masturbated. We never touched each other during these late night jerk-fests, we just competed for things like time, distance, accuracy, or volume. It was a way to challenge each other, but it also gave me (being almost a year older) an unfair advantage. I was taller than Tiggy. I had more body and pubic hair. I was also pretty proud of a patch of fuzz on my upper lip. I also had a larger penis, which made these minor nocturnal victories that much more satisfying.

I don't think I ever did anything to make Tiggy feel diminished in these events. I certainly never discussed them with anyone else. We were friends, and it would have been wrong for either of us to do anything to diminish the other. I was not the largest student at Rio Hondo Elementary, nor at Sierra Junior High. I was big for my age, but not unusually large. I was, however, inordinately aggressive when provoked. Growing up on military bases, I had learned very early on how to defend myself. In a foreign country, especially, Americans were not always popular. I quickly learned the basic tenets of manual combat, strike early and strike often.

I was the protector, the defender. I had a casual, laid-back demeanor that most other students seemed to appreciate. I was popular and active in school. I also made it clear that Tiggy was my best friend and anything that concerned him concerned me. I think that might have helped him early on, in those first couple years of our friendship. By the time we were entering our teens, it was almost unnecessary because Tiggy was extremely popular.

I know that it seems weird that Tiggy wasn't the quiet, mousy, introvert that would fit the stereotypical point of view. He was small, slim, had long curly hair and was so pretty that people were always mistaking him for a girl. He was the product of a broken home, never knowing his real father, and suffering physical abuse at the hands of his step-dad. His mother was an alcoholic that heaped criticism on her only child. She blamed Tiggy for her lack of a man in her life, for her loneliness, for her lack of a life. Every single problem in her life was his fault.

The only real bright side of his home life was that his mom was usually either, out drinking, or in passed out. She owned their house, as it was left to her by her parents, along with an annuity check that gave her the resources to pay for necessities, bills, and property taxes. Unfortunately, proper clothing and groceries for her only child did not constitute 'necessities' in her mind. I am sure that child welfare organizations would have been investigating if it wasn't for the intervention of others in the community. Despite all of these factors, most people never saw the real Lesley Dana Anderson.

What people saw was a construct. It was a role that he played, like an actor in a film, and he played it very well. He was bouncy, outgoing, energetic, charming, witty, and positive any time he interacted with others. His effervescent attitude quickly earned him the nickname 'Tigger' after Winnie the Pooh fame. This was quickly reduced to Tiggy or Tig. He was the life of every party. All the girls adored him, and none of the boys dare comment on his being less than a picture of masculinity.

I knew it was an act, but it was a wonderful act that I embraced along with those who never knew the abused little boy in the shadows of this larger than life character. In retrospect, I realize that Tiggy needed professional help, but all I could give him was unconditional love and friendship. My family only ever caught glimpses of that overenthusiastic alter ego. Around them, he was always soft-spoken, polite, and helpful. In return, they gave him a family, embracing him as if he were their own.

Dana and Sloan lie together, clinging to each other as if they are drowning. Each of them wrestles with an inner fear. They know that their lives have been irrevocably changed. Neither is certain what the future holds. Neither can they tell whether the events of these past few weeks will destroy the life they have built together.

For each new beginning is preceded by an ending.

Sloan sleeps fitfully, as Dana soothes his brow, lightly brushing her fingers through his hair. This is the man she fell in love with. This is her soul-mate, the man who makes sweet, gentle, tender love to her. The man who has always put her pleasure first. The man who has shared her heart and her bed since their junior year at UCLA.

Her eyes take on a faraway look as she reconciles that image with the sight of Sloan as a woman, dressed in the most feminine costume, her full breasts heaving, on her knees as she serviced Matt Sharp's rigid manhood. She compares these two people. Matt, the strong-willed Hollywood director, forceful and demanding. Sloan, the soft and gentle giver, submissive and yielding.

She could feel the heat rising from her loins as she recalled the soft caresses of Danielle, Matt's wife, and partner, as she whispers into Dana's ear, each word burning into her soul, driving her wild with passion.

"Watch her, my sweet slut. Isn't she amazing? Look at the way she serves her Master.
Look at the hunger on her face. I know what you are thinking. I can feel your jealousy. You wish you were her, don't you, my pet?"

Dana's knees, so weak that she fell back into the tall woman's embrace. Shivering with excitement.

"All in good time, my sweet pet. All in good time."

As Dana's body shudders in a mini-climax, she closes her eyes and struggles to sleep, wondering what the morning will bring.

Matt and Danielle Sharp are up with the dawn. Matt is the first to rise, taking care of his immediate needs in the bathroom, he playfully slaps his wife's ass, jolting her awake.

"Rise and shine, sweet cheeks!"

"You fucking bastard," she growls. "Does the word 'Bobbitt' ring any bells in that misogynistic transom that you call a brain?"

Matt smirks at his wife. "I'll put on the coffee while you can have first dibs on the shower."

"What about our guests?"

Matt leaned down to kiss her forehead, "Let them stew a little bit. I'm sure we can sort things out over breakfast." With that said, he strode confidently out of the room, leaving her to consider their new potential pets.

Danielle had specifically chosen Dana and Sloan several months earlier. She had a reputation for being impulsive and mercurial, both in temperament and in temper. It was an image she cultivated, and it suited her. She was the brash and headstrong partner while Matt was cool and calculating. As a movie producer and head of Dark Fantasy Films, it allowed her to project a dominating image. Her statuesque height and lithe figure make it easy to visualize her as a queen bitch with brass balls. It also makes it much easier to find playmates, as she and Matt have a very active and extroverted sex life.

Sloan awakens to the smell of coffee and bacon. As his mind struggles to work out where he is, he realizes that his wife, Dana is spooning against him, her hand cupping one of his breasts. He takes a few moments to consider how easily he has accepted this fact. It no longer seems that odd to wake up to a pair of soft pliable mounds on his chest. Being a method actor, Sloan has been immersed in his role as Taylor, personal assistant to Danielle Sharp for several weeks.

As his mind sorts things out, he gasps as the events of last night hit him like a ton of bricks. He remembers everything. The slinky and sexy feeling of wearing the 'Carnaval Angel' costume. The exhilaration of flirting and teasing during the Sharps' party. The musky scent of Matt Sharp. The texture of his rigid cock as Taylor kissed, licked and suckled it, savoring each heady sensation. The gasp from Dana as she entered the bedroom to the tableau of her husband as a woman, orally servicing a man.

The rest is a blur. She remembers the sight of Danielle, caressing Dana and nibbling on her ear. Dana's lust-filled eyes as she watches. Matt's hands firmly grasping Sloan's head as he feeds her his turgid shaft. The hot, thick taste of his cum as it empties into her mouth, a taste both repulsive and satisfying.

"Good morning" Dana's words are punctuated as she kisses Sloan's neck, nuzzling below the ear.

Sloan turns to face her. His own face reflecting a myriad of emotions.

"Dana....I....I'm....."

She places a finger to her husband's lips, "Shhh. It's okay."

"...b-but..."

She wraps her arms around her feminized husband and begins to coo softly as he cries into her shoulder. It takes several minutes before he quiets. His breathing returning to normal.

"Sloan, listen to me, please. I love you. You. All of you. These last few weeks have been like a roller-coaster. I know that we have changed. Our relationship has changed. I know we have a lot to deal with, but we can deal with it. Our love can survive this."

"I hope so." He whispers softly. "I am so afraid."

"Me, too."

The young couple arise from the bed and begin to prepare themselves for the next chapter in their lives. After a quick shower, they find clothes on the dressing table for them to wear. Dana chooses a pair of jeggings and a soft peasant top. Sloan selects a light sundress with a bright blue hibiscus print.

After brushing their hair and adding a few light touches of make-up, they descend the stairs to face the next trial.

Arriving downstairs, Sloan and Dana find the Sharps having a leisurely breakfast on the verandah. Matt is engrossed in a phone call as Danielle flips a magazine's pages in a desultory fashion. At a glimpse upward, her eyes light up and her smile broadens.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!"

Matt immediately spies the pair and makes a quick goodbye before placing the phone on the table. "Good morning. I trust you lovebirds slept well?"

The pair seems to visibly withdraw into each other, but Danielle halts them with a single command.

"Come here. Now."

The pair moves cautiously toward her, as she rises. They stop and she smiles.

"So well behaved..." she murmurs, then she casually strokes each of them as she walks around them, her voice and touch firm, yet soothing, as though calming a skittish horse. "Yes, you two will be a very nice addition to our family."

The submissive couple shivered under Danielle's inspection, each of them experiencing a variety of conflicting emotions. Dana was secure in her skills as both a make-up artist as well as her ability as a director. She lacked opportunity but never confidence. Matt and Danielle Sharp had opened the door for her and given her the opportunity, but at what cost? She could not help but worry that her marriage might well be the cost, and she was certain that she loved Sloan too much to throw it away.

For his part, Sloan was confident in only two things. He adored Dana with all of his heart and soul. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were soul-mates. He also knew that he was more than capable of playing any dramatic role. He was a consummate actor and felt that his art contained there was no challenge that he was not capable of conquering. When Dana and Danielle had hatched their plan to get him an audition for Matt Sharp's new film, Soft Kill, the knowledge that he would have to prove he could play a transgendered assassin was accepted as just another role. He was proud of his ability to convince Matt Sharp that he was all woman. It was only when he confronted his own embracing of that role, while on his knees giving oral homage to the famous director's cock, that he became confused.

Matt watched the pair and observed the emotions that played across their faces with interest. He knew that these next few days were important on many levels. He had an obligation to his studio and its backers to begin production on Soft Kill. He also had a very real desire to bring this young couple fully within his own sphere of influence. That required a level of delicacy on his part, as well as a strong hand with his impulsive and impulsive spouse. He knew that Danielle had a lot more self-control than most people gave her credit for, but she did have an impetuous streak. Usually, this was a positive, in that her instincts were usually correct. He just was not eager to run the risk of losing them.

"Darling." The word brought Danielle up short, as her eyes snapped to meet her husband's. "Where are our manners? Dana, Taylor, please join us. We have so much to discuss...on so many levels."

Danielle took Dana's elbow and led her around the table to sit beside Matt, then brought Sloan to sit beside her. The table displayed a carafe of coffee, as well as several containing a variety of juices. There was also a tray of fruits and some bread. The young couple met each other's gaze across the table and then began to pick and choose from the light buffet.

"First things first," began Matt after a few minutes worth of non-conversation. "As you recall from our discussion after the party, for which by the way I thank you, Dana, we need to begin working on Soft Kill immediately. Celia Cole looks as though she may well fill the part of Agent Sarkasian and it is a pivotal role. If she can deliver, we may well have something here. As to your part, Taylor, I think you may be perfect for the role. Unfortunately, the one doubt that I have is also one of the things I find most attractive about you."

"I'm not sure I follow....ummm....Mr. Uhm..Sharp...."

"Call me Matt for now, but that will change depending on circumstance."

"Yes, Sir....Matt"

"In answer to your question, Taylor...by the way, do you prefer to be called Taylor or Sloan?"

Sloan blushed deeply, "When I am....well....like this..." he gestured to the lovely sun dress, "I would prefer Taylor, I think."

"Good. One thing settled, at least." He smiled with genuine humor and winked at Sloan while squeezing his hand. "Now then, as I was saying, I am only worried about your submissiveness. I love it, on a personal level. In many ways, it could be said that it is a peculiar hunger of ours," he waved his hand indicating his wife. "but the role calls for a stone cold assassin, a woman who kills without remorse and is always in complete control. I cannot help worrying that one as completely submissive as you, my little flower could ever be convincing in such a...."

Matt Sharp was brought up short by the change in Sloan's visage. It was an instantaneous metamorphosis that transformed the soft, submissive woman into a nightmare image of ruthlessness.

"I am an actor. There is no role that I cannot play."

"My God," gasped Danielle. "She looks like me at a budget meeting!"

Matt began laughing as the tension was broken. "Bravo...or rather Brava! Well done, my pet. Well done, indeed!"

Celia Cole was enjoying a day at the spa, courtesy of Thomas Dern and the late Brandin Jessup. It felt good to be pampered. She reflected back on the miraculous turn of events which brought her to this point in her life. It had certainly been a roller-coaster. In the past few months she had moved from NY to LA, signed with an agent who pimped out his clients on the side, had her contract bought by Thomas 'the Mormon' Dern, become Brandin Jessup's pretend girlfriend, and gotten a small, but pivotal role in Matt Sharp's latest Hollywood blockbuster. For a poor girl from Danbury, Connecticut it was quite a ride.

Fred Ibarra stepped out of the limo and looked around carefully. He heard a double click from Bobby Earl letting him know he was covered. 'Chico' Martinez got out of the other side of the car and began scanning the area behind his dark shades. Looking toward the building's glass doors, he saw the kid, Sims, casually scanning the lobby from just inside the Hotel.

"Moving"

'click-click'

He ushered the principal out of the car and hurried him toward the doors as Chico brought up the rear. The vehicle began to roll away and Fred responded without conscious thought.

"DOWN!" He dragged the principal to him, throwing his body over the stunned Saudi businessman as Chico drew his weapon and pivoted as he knelt, looking for a target. A pair of shooters, dressed as bellhops, popped from around a baggage trolley. One was dead before he could raise his weapon, the second got two shots into Fred's back before Chico cut him in two with a short burst.

'click-click-click'

The car was gone. The protocol called for the car to remain until they were inside the building. This tiny error was what clued Fred that something was going down. With no car, the team had to improvise. Fred was struggling to breathe as he heard shots from the hotel lobby. As he gasped for air, he looked around and saw two bellhops with SMGs in a growing pool of blood. Chico was commandeering a taxi at gunpoint as the Kid grabbed the principal and threw him bodily into the back seat. He struggled to drag himself to the passenger door and felt Chico's grip as he pulled him inside and gunned the engine. There was a single bullet hole in the windshield, but Fred was unable to guess when it happened.

As the heavy cab barreled down the roadway, he loosened his body armor and sucked in air like it was a limited commodity.

"Clear"

"Clear"

"C-clear," echoed Fred as he struggled to regain his breath. He was pretty sure a rib was broken, but he had no blood dripping down his back, so he was reasonably sure he would live. The principal complained, but the Kid kept a knee in his back and held him on the floor. He could bitch all he wanted, but he was alive only because they were better than the other guys.

For Thomas Dern, the morning had offered a rare opportunity to sleep in. All of the machinations, reversals, and improvisations of the past week had culminated in the wee hours of the morning. Sloan Taylor was starring in Soft Kill, with Celia Cole in a strong supporting role. It was the kind of coup that agents only dreamt of, and it had been a nightmare to pull together. Now that the shattered pieces of Brandin Jessup's shattered life had been sorted, it brought a fresh breeze into the life of 'The Mormon'.

Of course, that was on the professional side. On the personal side, Brandin's death was a crushing blow. There are several reasons why an agent needs to maintain emotional distance from a client. It was a rule that Dern usually had no problem maintaining. After all, many of his clients were tedious and self-centered. In many ways, Brandin Jessup had been that way, but beneath it all, Thomas was able to see an underlying vulnerability that touched him deeply. He had developed a true love for Brandin. He shook his head at the realization, for he never lied to himself. He had loved Brandin in a variety of ways.

Thomas Dern was not really motivated by sex, nor was sexual release as an overriding motivation in his life. To most of those who knew him, he was remarkably asexual. He was seen with many women, not just his own clients, but women of wealth, station, and prominence. He was also on the boards of many Hollywood charities and attended functions for various organizations on a regular basis. His opportunities to indulge himself in all ways carnal were fairly regular, yet he never partook of them. With Brandin, it was not sexual, but sex was at least a part of the equation.

It was difficult to admit that to himself, but he had fallen in love with Brandin almost from the day they met. Brandin was just a child, and Thomas Dern did not covet him sexually, not really. He was just drawn to this mesmerizingly beautiful child. Brandin was not the typical child star, despite the influence of that horrid woman who was the quintessential Hollywood mom. She would have gladly pimped her son for a shot at fame, in fact, she had done everything but state that in so many words. It seemed so cruel that she should still be alive while he was dead.

Looking back over Brandin's career, it was easy to see how deeply the child had imprinted himself on the life of his agent. It was a gross indulgence, almost an obsession. It had also had a detrimental effect on several careers. It was unprofessional, which to a man like Thomas Dern was the ultimate insult. Only his own ability to look within himself with stark and rigid tenacity had kept him from making more serious mistakes. He was overindulgent with Brandin, but he was aware of it and strove mightily to overcome it. Maybe if he had been stronger, Brandin might still be alive.

That kind of thinking was counter-productive. It served no useful purpose, and the momentary pain was immediately quashed by strength of will. That was one of the strengths of being who and what he was. In any event, he had a funeral to plan, and he still had to determine what to do about Brandin's mom. She was in an assisted-care facility following a stroke. From all accounts, she was completely incapable of communication and barely responsive. She had yet to be told of her son's death.

The door opened, and George Hadley walked in with a grim look on his face.

"Trouble in Riyadh. Someone tried to take down the Sheikh. Our guys took down at least three, possibly a fourth. They got him out to a safe house. The Saudi police and military are going nuts. At present, there's a news lockdown, but apparently some info is filtering out from witnesses. Luckily, nobody seems to have shot any video."

"The team?"

"Good. Fred took two in the back, covering the principle, but the shots didn't get through his vest. He thinks he may've busted a rib, but not sure without x-rays. I have another team moving to hand-off. As soon as they do I'm pulling them out before they can be grabbed by the Saudis."

"Alright. So where did this take place?"

"At the Hotel. The driver was in on it. We have people looking, but my guess is that he is either dead or long gone. No idea how high up the chain this goes, but someone pretty high up had to leak it. I'm pressing our people over there to find the leak in a hurry."

Thomas frowned, hands steepled under his chin, considering the news.

"Contact all parties. Negotiations are on hold until we say otherwise. If the Sheikh balks, we cancel the contract and he can find someone else. We took this contract with that stipulation. We decide when and where and if he wants to cancel the contract, point out the high cost his funeral would be if we had not been covering him."

"On it."

George turned and headed out as Thomas 'The Mormon' Dern continued to gaze into space, his mind deep in contemplation.

Danielle Sharp was striding across the studio lot, Taylor hurrying along in her wake. The woman seemed to be constantly in motion. She was like a force of nature. As she walked, she kept up an endless dialogue with her phone.

"...has to be completed yesterday. Listen to me very carefully. I really don't give a flying fuck what the union wants, we have a contract and the studios should already be set up. If they are not, I am going to kick someone's ass. We start shooting next week and if there is a single delay, I know at least one rep from I.A.T.S.E (International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees) that will be singing soprano before sunset, capisce?"

Taylor spent these moments absorbing the physical mannerisms, vocal inflections, and language of his stunning boss. She was so sexually exciting to watch. There was an aura that literally flooded the senses of anyone that came within her sphere. It was devastating. She was overwhelming on so many levels, and almost everyone around her was dimmed in comparison.

Almost everyone.

It was almost shocking to realize that despite the power that seemed to radiate from Danielle, Matt Sharp was the only person who could not only hold his own but could surpass her. If she was an unstoppable force, her husband was an immovable object. They made a formidable team, and it was scary to realize that they had set their sights on Sloan and Dana Taylor.

What was happening to them? Sloan loved his wife, and he had no doubt that Dana loved him back with a depth and passion that he had never before imagined. Why was that not enough for them? Why did they both feel the need to explore this thing with the Sharps?

So far, Matt and Danielle had been true to their word. There had been no demands made. There had been nothing sexual between them, with the small exception of what happened at the party. Taylor blushed deeply at the memory of kneeling at Matt Sharp's feet and worshiping his rigid cock. That had been one of the most intense sexual experiences of the young actor's life. It had also been the revelation to Matt of Sloan Taylor's true gender.

Taylor could recall everything about that event with a heightened sense of realism. He could feel every vein in Matt's rigid shaft, smell the heady masculine scent, taste the sharp and salty flavor of his semen. A flavor that could be described as both repulsive and immensely satisfying. He could also see the hunger in his wife's eyes as she watched her husband pay homage to her boss' cock.

Even now, the shame of that moment was eclipsed by the passion that they both felt under the spell of Matt and Danielle Sharp. Maybe they had yet to agree to serve as submissives to the dominating duo, but he knew that it was almost a fait accompli. It was as good as done.

Taylor was shocked back into the now as he felt Danielle's fingers lightly caress his cheek.

"Someone looks like she is having happy thoughts."

The funeral for Brandin Wayne Jessup was a media event that brought attendees from all over the world. It was duly covered by every major media outlet, and the paparazzi were everywhere. Thomas Dern and Celia Cole held court, and the grieving young actress was resplendent as she maintained her strong facade for the sake of the mourners, only breaking down as his casket was lowered into the rich dark earth of Forest Lawn Cemetery.

The funeral was an all-day affair, beginning with a small service at the cemetery's Unitarian chapel where dozens of Hollywood notables gave short testimonials on the life of this bright young star whose light was extinguished much too soon. The event then proceeding to a graveside ceremony where a non-denominational priest consecrated and hallowed the ground, giving a short endorsement on behalf of any religious entities to which the various attendees might adhere. In short, it was a sterile and calculated service designed neither to comfort nor to appease.

Matt Sharp raised his hand to gently massage the bridge of his nose in an attempt to dull the ache from the drill press that was threatening to erupt from behind his eyes. He knew the migraine was psychosomatic and a result of stress. The knowledge offered little comfort as he felt his wife's hand gently squeezing his own. He gave her a light squeeze back, to acknowledge her efforts.

"Not much longer, my love. We will find some suitable way to deal with it, soon."

"I know. I just wish things weren't in such disarray."

Danielle knew what he was referring to. With Gabrielle off dealing with her own personal ghosts, and Dana and Sloan not quite ready to step into her shoes, there was a large hole in the Sharp's family that could never truly be filled by a surrogate. There was a huge difference between someone who accepts a submissive role play as part of a game and one who embraces submission as a lifestyle. The former can serve many useful functions, and can be an enjoyable diversion, but the true submissive is a treasure to be nurtured, trained, and groomed into a family. This was her goal in recruiting the young couple, but they were not yet fully committed, and the weeks and months ahead would play a critical part in whether they were ever going to live up to their potential.

The public had such a slanted viewpoint on alternative lifestyles. Generations of religious, political, and social pressure had created a false reality of the lifestyle that she and her husband embraced. It was not sadomasochism (S/M) although there were some elements of both during certain sessions. It was not your typical bondage and discipline fetish, but again, it held elements of both. Domination and submission (D/s) is about power in a relationship. One person accepts the power and responsibility of total control of physical and emotional pleasure for another person who gives up that control by free will.

There have been countless studies of the psychology of power in sexual role play. It seems that the only fact that they all agree on is that every successful relationship has an exchange of power as one participant succumbs to the will of another. Traditionally, the male has been considered the dominant in this exchange, but there has been a lot of evidence that this is not true at all. The subtleties of who actually has control can be difficult to ascertain even for those who participate.

For example, it is a common belief that during fellatio, the submissive party is the one who is giving oral satisfaction to the other. Recent studies, however, show that many women (as well as men) in this 'submissive' role experience a strong sense of power over the other. The debate over power exchange during various sex acts has become a flashpoint issue among those who study human sexuality. With no definitive evidence to support any viewpoint, most of those who engage in this lifestyle merely shrug their shoulders as if to say 'whatever....it works'.

A small smile was barely discernible at the corners of her mouth as she considered her prey. Dana and Sloan Taylor were the perfect blend of innocence, naïveté, and submission. They were absolutely adorable, and her loins began to dampen as she considered their future. She had some very specific plans for the young couple. For Matt, it was all about the endgame, but for Danielle, the chase was more than half the fun. She knew that the couple were a long way from being broken to the life of submission, but she took great pleasure in that knowledge.

The young couple in question were not at Brandin Jessup's funeral. Each was buried deep into their own thoughts as they drove Dana's beat up Toyota Camry across town toward their small home in Venice, CA. For his own part, Sloan was struggling to come to terms with his actions at the Sharps' party. Yes, a method actor must throw himself into a role by full immersion. Yes, a method actor must play the role as if it was his own reality. He knew this. He had always prided himself on his ability to assimilate any role. So did that mean he was not guilty of engaging in a homosexual act with Matt Sharp?

He tried to be objective in his appraisal. He had done what he had trained himself to do. He had been acting a role. After all, many heterosexual actors had played gay on stage and on screen. An actor could not afford to pick and choose his roles at the beginning of his career. His only hope was to establish himself, his legitimacy as an actor, and then have the power to control what roles he might play.

This thought had continued to swirl around in both his conscious and subconscious mind. It should have given him the comfort and the gravitas to speak out to his bride and assuage any doubts that she might have about the sexuality of the man she had married. It should have given him the moral high ground to dismiss any concerns, except for one lingering issue.

He had liked it.

For her part, Dana was also struggling with demons of her own. She felt enormously guilty about her part in Danielle's plan to feminize Sloan to get him the role in Soft Kill. She also felt guilty for her feelings. Deep in the darkest recesses of her heart, she had to confess that she had loved it. Seeing Sloan in angelic regalia at the costume party had gotten her so hot. When you add to that Danielle's obvious intentions for them both she was almost reduced to a puddle of desire.
She had wanted this. Wanted it as much as anything she had ever felt before. Feeling the power that emanated like pheromones from Matt and Danielle had kept her in a heightened state of sexual desire for weeks. It was all she could do to keep from climbing all over Sloan at the party. Only the strength of Danielle's will had managed to halt her. When she had seen her husband on his knees, swallowing Matt's hard and throbbing member, only Danielle's soft caresses had kept her from joining Sloan in paying homage to Matt Sharp's turgid member.

The fact that Danielle had not allowed either of them to fully consummate the sexual tableau was so frustrating that she was still squirming with desire. On the one hand, her body was crying out for sexual release. On the other, she took a cruel and perverse pleasure in allowing Danielle to deny them that release. How would Sloan react when he realized his own bride's role in what had been done to him?