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?