Acting Dominant

by Tigger

©2008

Chapter 8: On the Sidewalks of New York

  

Ty tried to find a position where he could stand without falling into the bathroom sink, and that also let him see clearly the fine line formed by where his own skin met the faux breast he'd just glued on to his chest. It had been difficult enough doing up Tina's face and getting the blond, French-Twist styled wig on straight using the sorry excuse for a medicine cabinet mirror, but this - this . . .

Words failed him for one of the few times in his life. He needed a shadow-free view of that transition if he wanted to hide it effectively with the makeup intended to hide the difference between real skin and really good fake skin. Except he couldn't twist his neck far enough to see it directly. The only way he could even begin to see the sides of his fake boobs was to use a mirror. At the dungeon, he'd used those marvelous wide-screen, lighted makeup mirrors, but he didn't have anything like that here. All he had was a mirror that was missing a large chunk of its reflective silver backing, that was barely the size of a piece of notebook paper, and that was already slightly above comfortable face height for the inches-challenged actor. While doing Tina's face, he'd solved the height problem by slipping on those instruments of the Inquisition that Solange jokingly referred to as 'shoes', using the extra four and one half inches (he'd measured them!) to get his lips even with a part of the mirror that actually produced a reflection.

Now what he was doing was standing on top of an upside-down, metal waste can and leaning against the wall for support. Once there, he used a flashlight in one hand for extra illumination, and his remaining free hand to brush the masking compound's pigment smoothly over the two surfaces.

All the while trying manfully not to fall off his precarious perch, smashing his head on the toilet flushing tank, thus killing himself. Well, at least he'd thought to take off those damned shoes first. Otherwise, he'd probably already be dead.

And for all his best efforts, 'Tina's' face was merely adequate from what he'd been able to see of the entire presentation in that miserable excuse for a mirror. At least, he hoped it was adequate. As soon as he finished dressing, he'd call the dungeon and see if one of the ladies would give Tina a quick make over once she got to work. Someone was sure to be there by then, and Tina would need it. Actually, Ty was perfectly capable of doing what was needed to be done on his own - he just couldn't do it fast enough for Tina to be on time in the playroom - particularly if that asshole super and his pal the inspector dawdled over their white glove treatment of the place.

There'd be somebody at the dungeon who could help him. There had to be!

With the last bit of cosmetic camouflage done and dried, it was time to finish dressing so he wouldn't have to greet the coming invaders in nothing but Tina's unmentionables. Wouldn't THAT be a bloody thrill!

NOT!

The waist cincher had still been a problem - even after Juana's help the previous evening. Over the course of the night, the waspie, and maybe the laces, too, had stretched so the thing had been able to shift up towards his rib cage. Getting it back down to where it belonged had required a great deal of tugging and some rather inventive contortions on his part. He'd managed, but it had taken time he didn't have and still left his waist not quite as cinched as it had been the night before.

He almost wished he'd accepted ShaJuana's kind offer to come here this morning before she went to her audition. She'd told him she'd be here at six AM to lace him up so he could get a good night's sleep. Besides, Solange didn't like her girls wearing corsetry more than a few hours at a time because the garments tended to constrict internal organs if worn too long or too tightly. Anyway, he'd blown her off. For one thing, as Juana herself had said, Ty didn't need to lose all that many inches so Tina wouldn't have to be laced so tightly that there might be a health risk. More importantly, however, Ty wanted ShaJuana to be bright-eyed and ready for her audition. She wouldn't be either if she had to get out of bed at 5:30 AM to be here just to get hm laced up by 6:00 AM.

He remembered how she'd rebelled at his insistence she stay in bed and go straight to her audition, arguing that it would be no problem for her at all. She was a great friend, he thought, but he had been determined to have his way on this. She needed, no, more than that, she had EARNED this opportunity, and Ty was not going to have her go into this audition at anything less than her absolute best. As her friend, that was more important to him than a few hours discomfort from having to wear a corset overnight.

Now he had to get into costume and into character, but that was actually going to fun for a change. This was the first time since Juana had first shoved him into her shower with that bottle of hair remover that he'd had any degree of artistic control over HIS character. He'd spent a lot of time last evening thinking about just that, too, and had concluded that the very sexy ditz who would serve as Isolde's secretary was all wrong for the walk across town to work. That piece of work would have a car, or at least, would call a cab to get to the dungeon, and neither of those options fit into Ty Edwards' budget just yet. So, he needed a different character for the next few hours.

And he could see her in his mind.

She was a Midwestern girl, new to the big city, starting off a new life and a new job. She was ambitious, ergo her decision to work in New York City instead of back home in Dubuque, but she was still just a little naive, a little too sweet and trusting, and secretly, just a little scared at being out on her own. Think Marlo Thomas in 'That Girl' as a starter, he thought to himself.

He looked at the padded girdle and bra set on his bed, next to the seamed stockings and a plastic bag with the logo of a local discount department store. It would have been so much easier to have had Juana help him slip into one of those all-in-one things last night, lace it up and be done with it all. Unfortunately for him, in his next role Solange already had a mental picture of how 'Sexy Secretary Tina' would dress and had issued him this stuff instead. Evidently, Solange had decided that 'Sexretary Tina' wouldn't give a second thought to running around commando-style, even when dressed in a really short skirt and an open-bottom girdle. 'Dubuque Tina,' however, was not THAT kind of girl! 'Dubuque Tina' was an old fashioned girl-next-door kind of girl. SHE had been brought up by her Momma to be a Lady with a capital 'L'!

Which was why that plastic bag was there on the bed along with the lingerie provided by Solange. While waiting for ShaJuana to arrive last night, he'd run out to the local department store and had checked out the available selections in ladies' undies. One small problem had been that he didn't really know what size panty Tina wore, since such things had always been provided by the dungeon or by Juana. Unfortunately, neither Ty nor Tina had thought to look for the tags. He'd solved that problem by buying three pairs in three different sizes, starting with large. He'd gotten a very funny look from the cashier, but he'd ignored it. Wouldn't be the first time someone had drawn conclusions about him based on his purchase of costume pieces or accessories. That was just part of being an actor.

Ty decided he'd start with the smallest pair of panties, and then move up in size if it became necessary.

~-~

At 8:14 by the radio announcer's disgustingly chipper weather report, Dubuque Tina was busily putting the finishing touches on her attire. She was a little concerned because, with the padded girdle, Tina had a figure that just BARELY fit in the skirt. And her voluptuously rounded bottom pulled the darn thing's already short hem up another couple of inches! She HAD to be dangerously close to having the dark, reinforced nylon of her stocking tops peeking out from under her skirt-hem. On her first day as Miss Isolde's secretary, too! Oh, if only every stray calorie didn't run straight to her hips and bottom and take up permanent residence there. If she'd had time for breakfast earlier, she'd be losing it right now!

So it was just as well she'd had to skip breakfast, because she didn't have time for that right now. She still had to get the seams of her stockings straightened out, then get them hooked to the garters of that darned girdle, and manage it all in the 12 minutes she had left before Mr. Edwards' super and his pal the inspector arrived.

~-~

Somehow, she managed it, because just as the radio announced the 8:30 morning news, she was slipping on her suit jacket. She'd even gotten the socks and running shoes on without falling on her face or ruining her hose. Amazing, she thought, while hurrying over to her kitchen table so she could knock on the wood.

~-~

The radio station's regularly scheduled 8:34 weather report came and went, with no sign of the inspection team.

~-~

At 8:38, the local sportscaster was giving a cogent analysis of why neither the Yankees or the Mets were in the World Series this year, and could expect that to occur again next year. There wasn't even the grind of the elevator hoist to herald the arrival of the inspector and superintendent.

~-~

At 8:45, her phone rang. "Finally," she snarled as she snapped up the offending instrument. "YES!"

"Hello, is this Mr. Edwards' apartment?" She recognized the voice of the building superintendent.

Tina realized that the superintendent had expected Ty to answer, but instead had gotten her. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Yes, this is Mr. Edwards' apartment. He had to go to an audition, so he asked me to be here for this inspection thingie you guys sprung on him. Are you calling about that?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry, but the inspector just called to tell me he can't make it today - he has a sick kid who can't go into school so he has to stay home with him. We'll have to reschedule for another day."

"Oh, I see. You can cancel without notice, but if Ty did, you'd fine him two hundred and fifty dollars?" she demanded primly. "I'm sure he's going to call the management company about this. He deserves a rent credit for this, at the very least!" she lectured into the phone.

A mocking laugh answered her. "Oh, you tell him to go ahead and try, but the penalty to Edwards is in the lease he signed, and there's nothing in there that says the landlord has any similar liabilities. You have a nice day, Ma'am, and say hello to Mr. Edwards for me." Then all she heard was the buzzing of a disconnected phone.

She looked at the clock, and saw that it was 8:49, and uttering a word that would have had her Momma reaching for a soap bar, gathered up her luggage and briefcase to leave.

~-~

For some unknown reason, the sign announcing that the elevator was out of commission was gone, and it appeared - miracle of miracles - that it was actually operating. She reached out and tapped the 'down' button with the blood-red nail of her index finger.

The elevator arrived and she stepped in. Like many such conveyances, the inside was mirrored for the benefit of the security camera hidden somewhere in the car - assuming the camera worked which she figured was a very bad assumption. However, the mirrors still served to give Tina her first good look at 'the whole picture.' Mentally, she ticked off the main elements of her presentation for her first day of work with Miss Isolde.

Her hair was okay - the blond French braids were still tight and still looked neat. Her make up would pass, too, but she hoped she could manage a quick trip to the powder room for a touch up before she met with Miss Isolde to start her day.

She looked at her body, and pouted a bit. Her suit was tight - VERY tight, but she didn't look fat - maybe just a little zaftig - her boobs, hips and butt looked in proportion - just a little too big for the suit, that's all. And now that she was working and walking to work every day, she'd shed that five, well, ten pounds in no time.

She checked her legs and was pleased to see that she had managed to get the seams of the stockings straight, and there weren't any runs or ladders. . . okay - check.

Carefully, she lifted her skirt until she could see the darker material of the stockings' tops, and then a little more until she saw the white of the garters from her girdle, and sighed. That was going to be a problem, after all. She had a scant two inches to where the stocking tops became clearly visible and less than another inch before the white of the girdle garters would poke themselves into plain view. Maybe she should go back on put on pantihose, she thought to herself, but no - there just wasn't enough time. Besides, real stockings made her feel, well, more womanly and grown up - just the way a girl starting on her first real job in the big city SHOULD feel. Ditch the pantihose, she told herself sternly.

Tina experimented with her stride, all the while looking at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. She'd have to be very careful to moderate her stride or she'd be flashing stocking tops and garters to the whole city, she thought. Oh well, it's not all that far to walk, she tried telling herself as an encouragement.

As the elevator doors whooshed open on her building's main floor, she thought, just for an instant, that she might be better off wearing the high heels that were inside the rolling suitcase she pulled behind her. That would, at least, control her stride for her. It would also just about destroy her feet and ankles before she was half way through her first day working for Miss Isolde. She'd just have to remember and be careful not to over-stride. She could do that.

~-~

Only the nagging awareness of the potential risk that her skirt might creep up her thighs as she hurried off to work would not go away! She was overtly conscious of her appearance every step she took. She caught herself, on several occasions, stopping to stare at her reflection in storefront windows, making sure those darned stocking tops and garter tabs weren't showing.

It was during one such stop that she caught a reflected glimpse of a tall, African American woman behind her and deep in the part of Tina's mind where Ty was still in control, thought "Juana?" But when she spun about to look, the woman had disappeared - maybe stepping into a store further back up the sidewalk.

Her curiosity aroused, she was about to walk back that way and see who was there, but saw to her horror that it was almost 9:15, and she was only barely halfway to work! Her little window stops, along with her consciously shortened walking stride had cost her time she didn't have to lose! First thing she'd buy with her first paycheck would be a business-appropriate ladies watch. She was a professional now, darnit, and professionals were not late for work or appointments.

She had to get to her new workplace by 9:30, so she considered her options. Her planned route to work was a bit roundabout because she intentionally avoided a street that had always seemed really dirty and unkempt. She didn't want to show up soiled and dusty her first day on the job, but taking that street would cut ten minutes off her walking time. Another look at the clock in the window made up her mind for her. 'You never get a second chance to make a good first impression,' she told herself firmly.

With that, she turned and headed for the 'shortcut'.

~-~

The street was not only dirty, it was rough in more ways than one. There were few, if any, pedestrians for her to join, and most of the people on the street seemed to be clustered in small, same-sex groups around someone who was clearly the 'ring-leader'. Her lack of escort and her mode of dress made her stand out all the more. She had never been anywhere like this back home in Dubuque. Anxiety bubbled up in her as she became more and more the center of attention, particularly among the male groups.

Unconsciously, her stride lengthened and sped up, with the consequence that her stocking tops started flashing with each stride, bringing her even more unwanted interest from her audience.

Suddenly, something caught at her arm, bringing her up short and nearly toppling her to the dirty sidewalk. She just caught herself, and spinning about, saw the cause was a man - a teenager really, who had grabbed her by her arm as she'd passed by him.

He was not a credit to his gender. He had long, ill-tended hair, and a face that was marked by insufficient hair to be recognizable as a beard, and the pockmark scars of poorly treated acne. He wore a filthy t-shirt and grubby jeans, under a New York Yankee warmup jacket. The grin he gave her was frightening, and whether it was his breath or body order, the stench he gave off made her want to wretch right there.

"Yo, momma," he said arrogantly, "You be new here. Gotta real nice ass on you. What say you come with me and we'll see what we can do with that fine ass, huh?"

A miasma of swirling, violent emotions nearly overwhelmed Tina - part fear, part humiliation, and the rest pure rage. How DARE this. . . this punk accost her? Without thought, the actor that was Tina slipped into the most threatening role she knew, "Little man," Maitresse Solange said in cold, clear tones, "If you want those fingers back as more than stubs, you would be wise to remove them from my arm now while you can."

"Listen, bitch . . ."

"No, YOU listen," she snapped back, punctuating each syllable with a sharp finger stab to the punk's sternum, "You got ONE thing right, I AM a bitch, with sharp, shiny teeth," The smile that curled her lips showed those teeth, but didn't reach her ice cold eyes. "You don't want me to show you and your friends just how sharp they are. Do you think you're the first pushy little boy who has tried my patience? I know just what to do to render a mere male - less than whole. I've done it before and I LIKE doing it."

For several, infinitely long heartbeats, the two of them simply stared into each other's eyes, and then he broke. Solange-Tina reached over with her free hand, and peeled her attacker's fingers away from her arm. Then she fastidiously smoothed the material, turned her back on him and, with a dismissive shake of her head, continued on her way, once again at the controlled, restrained pace she'd used when she'd first left her building.

What she did not see was the teen recovering enough to start gathering his group for a response, only to have a mountain of a man, wearing a grey pinstriped suit, step between them and Tina's departing figure. He made no overt threat, made no movements that might signal that he had or might use a weapon against them. However, the unspoken message he conveyed was still clearly understood by the leader and his cronies. 'To get to her, you go over or through me.'

They decided they had better things to do at that point, and were all privately relieved when the suit slipped away in the direction that bitch had taken.

~-~

Acting Dominant

Interlude - The Shadow Knows.

8:50 AM found Maitresse Solange just settling into the plush leather seats of her chauffeur-service car for the drive from her home to her place of business. The car had barely moved from the curb when her cell-phone sounded the first bars of the refrain from John Cougar Mellencamp's "Hurts so Good." She collected the sleek unit from her purse and saw that the call was being auto-forwarded to her from her private line at the dungeon.

Snapping it open, she put the phone to her ear and expectantly said, "Yes?" She listened for a moment, and then smiled broadly. "Ah, yes, Mr. Smith, this is she. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I see. So Mr. Edwards arranged for someone to stay in his apartment to meet your supposed inspector? A young lady, you say? Ah, must be a girl friend. Well, that's too bad as he'll no doubt arrive at work before we'll have had time to set up the decorations for his surprise birthday celebration. What's that? Oh, you say his girlfriend told you he went to an audition? Well, maybe we can salvage the party after all." There was a spate of rapid speech on the other end, causing Solange to grin. "Oh, well I shouldn't worry, Mr. Smith. I'll make sure that both Mr. Edwards and his friend know that this was a ruse on my part so we could surprise him. No, I don't think you need to worry about a call to your employers about the inspection. No, I'm very pleased with your effort, and will have the other fifty dollars delivered to you by messenger this very morning. Thank you for trying to help us surprise Tyrone. Good day to you, Mr. Smith."

Solange settled even more comfortably into the deeply cushioned seat, a self-satisfied smile on her face. So, Ty had taken the challenge and run with it. Tina was now operating on the grandest stage of all - New York City during morning rush hour. How did the song go? 'If I can make it here, I'll make it anywhere. . .'

A beautiful piece of feminine manipulation, she thought to herself. She'd be sure to congratulate ShaJuana on her part in this little enterprise, as well.

She glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to slip into her office and be well out of sight before Tina came sailing in to the dungeon to redo her makeup for the session with Isolde.

~-~

At 9:20, Solange was seated in her private office, a freshly brewed cup of tea in her hand, watching the establishment's closed circuit television. She'd installed the system so that any room in the place could be monitored for safety, sanity and consensuality - not to mention security. She was about to select the camera that monitored the entrance foyer when the phone on her private line rang. She picked it up, "Yes?" and then listened. At first, she wasn't sure she had heard what the private security man had to say correctly, so she asked him to repeat it

It was just as bad the second time. "She was WHAT?" Solange blurted, her voice jumping whole octaves. "Accosted on the street? Where? Why?"

"Merciful God in Heaven, Why EVER did she take THAT route?. .oh . . .running late? I wonder why - I have an eye witness report that she left the apartment building in plenty of time to get here. She should have been. . .What about the suit? Oh, I see, and they saw her garters? How?"

The response was terse and to the point, and made Solange wince. "My fault - I didn't think - it was the outfit Isolde and I had selected before I thought of this experience for her. . .I didn't think of how that would work out in public and I should have. Was. . .Was she hurt? Before you could intervene?"

She jumped at the bark of laughter that answered that question, then listened carefully. "You say she handled them? How? Did she break cover and - . . .and . . .she WHAT?!??"

The conversation, such as it was, devolved to the security operative making tight, pithy comments about planning, safety and consent when a submissive was put in such situations, to which a very chastened Solange interspersed with increasingly apologetic "I see's," and "I agree's." It was a masterful chewing out, from a man she knew to be a highly competent, caring and much sought-after Master in his own right. Worse, she knew she deserved every bit of it and more.

"No, you're quite right - this was poorly planned and poorly done on our part, and I'm giving thanks right now that nothing really bad happened to anyone involved."

"No, I don't know what I'm going to do - probably nothing at all until we see if there are repercussions."

"Yes, I know you're there if we need masculine support or assistance, but we'll start out playing it by ear on our own. Very well, then, and thank you for your efforts. I very much appreciate everything you did to keep her safe."

Solange was about to say more when her in-house intercom beeped, and then beeped again. That was the preset danger signal from the front desk - not an intrusion alarm or a crime alarm, but a warning of what the front desk considered to be a significant problem.

"I have to go - something on my in-house link." Solange hung up the phone and opened the two-way circuit to the front desk.

"Solange? Deedee on the front desk. Tina just came in. Something is just not right. Her face was . . .was, well, a little scary! I've never seen her look so, well, hard is the only word I can think of. And she's never talked to me the way she just did before."

"What did she say?"

"She said something like "Good morning, Deirdre, All's well here, I presume?" and just kept going. Didn't wait for me to answer. I've never heard her talk like that, and this is after she called me earlier this morning and all but begged me to help her with her makeup for her session when she got here. It was like she had never said it, somehow. . ."

"Thanks - I'm on it."

Solange turned her attention back to her CCTV station, and began scanning through the rooms on the second floor. She found Tina in the prep room that had been assigned to her use for her final preparations. Tina was seated at the vanity busily creaming away the makeup she'd put on before leaving her apartment. Her movements seemed strange, for some reason, but Solange couldn't quite put her finger on why that might be. In hopes of getting more information, she turned on the hidden microphones that were also installed in every room of the dungeon.

Not able to make out much, if any detail in the fisheye lens of the security camera, Solange switched to the camera installed behind the one-way glass of the makeup mirror and just stared in confusion at what she beheld. There was no apparent emotion on the young face, just a quietly intense focus on the process of applying fresh makeup.

Why wasn't the girl upset? Lord knows, if some jerk had grabbed Solange on the street like that she'd have been upset. Hell, after she'd crushed the little worm into the nearest storm drain, she'd have run off to the privacy of her office and had a minor breakdown. This girl had nearly been - no, not nearly - she HAD been violated, but she wasn't showing a bit of that type of emotion. That, somehow, seemed even worse than a breakdown. At least Solange knew what to DO about a breakdown - equal parts caring, wine and chocolate, with an on-call rape counselor in the wings if needed. She had to know more about what was going on inside that blond head . . .

Solange snatched up her phone and dialed an in-house extension that was answered on the first ring. "Isolde, something went wrong on Tina's walk to work - some low-life scum accosted her on the street. No, she wasn't hurt physically and I had someone following her for protection. No, she's not crying, and that scares the hell out of me. Look, I don't have anything more to tell because I don't know anything more, all right? I need you to go to her and see if you can figure out what she's feeling right now. You have an excuse to go looking for her so get down there and try to look surprised when you see her. Once you're there you can call for help and I'll be able to say I was just arriving at work after coming in from my appointment. No, I don't know if she can work a session or not, but I'm really not concerned about that just at the moment. Okay, Solly, thanks. She's in Prep Room 1, putting on makeup, for goodness sake. Great! Now move it, please."

Still fixated on the screen, Solange called the front desk. "DeeDee, I want ShaJuana in my private office right now! Tell her to take the back way, because I don't want Tina to see her. What do you mean she's not here yet? Oh, I see. Well, then call her on her private cell phone. I need to see her right away - tell her to shag it! Thanks, dear. Yes, I saw it, too, and no, I've not seen Tina behave like this before, either. Thanks. She's one of us now, and we'll take care of her. Right, now I have to go. Find ShaJuana for me!"

~-~

ShaJuana burst in, breathing hard from running up the stairs and down the block-long corridor to reach Solange's office. It took a few moments for the tall black beauty to be brought up to speed as they watched the monitor to see Isolde arrive at Tina's Prep Room. Dumbfounded, they could only stare when Tina immediately began ordering the senior Domina around. "This suit is too tight without the corset laced up tight. Well, what are you waiting for? Don't dawdle, Isolde, we haven't the time for that!"

"Where WERE you, Juana? I thought you were going to trail after her, too? Make sure nothing went wrong while she was out on the street?" Solange's tones were accusing.

Juana didn't take her eyes off her friend's image as she answered the older woman. "I lost her about half way here. That skirt really messed her up, Solange. It was just too short and she never got comfortable moving in it. She must have stopped twice every block just to look at her reflection. She even slipped into an alleyway once to pull it down in the back. Anyway, I got too close once and I saw her catch sight of my reflection in one of the windows. I ducked into a café and by the time I thought it was safe to come back out, she was gone. I tried to catch up, but I never even caught sight of her again. How'd she get here so damned fast?"

"She took the short cut through the bad streets, and got grabbed by some punk-bastard," Solange growled, her fury at herself only barely contained.

"Ohmigod," Juana said, suddenly fearful.

"Evidently, she backed him off, somehow. My P.I. thinks she did it with just the power of her voice and the force of her eyes on him. He was very impressed with her innate dominance, although he did step in after she walked away to keep the cowardly shit from jumping her from behind."

In the meantime, Tina was putting her blouse and coat back in order. "Get my shoes out of the suitcase, please, while I see what I can do with this wig." Both watchers were surprised at the continued tone of command in the younger woman's voice. Certainly Isolde wasted no time jumping to obey the snapped out order.

"She just walked away? In that part of town? You're kidding! "

"No, I'm not. God, Juana, it could have been so much worse and it would have been my fault!" Solange's voice started to break.

ShaJuana put a strong arm around the older woman's shoulders and pulled her close as they both continued to watch Isolde try to comfort their friend. "No, it would have been our fault, but mostly mine. It was my idea and I asked you to help set it up. God, now she'll never want to go out and play with me in public. . . and I'm pissed at myself for being so damned selfish that I'd think of something like that before I think of what SHE must be goin' through. DAMMIT! How could I say something that stupid?"

"Language!" Solange corrected automatically. "And I think there's blame enough to go around, dear. I didn't even give her panties."

"She had panties - I saw them."

"She did?"

"Ty bought 'em at a store near his place. Said something about Isolde's Tina was not the right Tina for the sidewalks of New York - or some such thing - so he bought three pairs, 'cause he didn't know what size he wore and couldn't bring himself to ask the saleslady to help measure him."

"You know. . . " ShaJuana said thoughtfully, watching Tina, "I've never seen him, I mean her, like this, but . . . . "

"What?" Solange demanded, putting her nose closer to the monitor in an effort to see what ShaJuana might have noticed. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong," she said, letting the words slide away. "But she's in character right now, and I feel like I ought to know who. . ."

At that moment, Tina issued another command to Isolde, who seemed to almost shrink under the power of this new and unknown Tina. "I. . . I have to go make sure the room is ready, Tina," a quaver in her voice clearly audible over the monitoring system speakers

"Oh, very well, you are dismissed!"

"Thank you, Mis, I mean, Tina," and then Isolde almost ran from the room.

"Well, I'll be dipped," Juana said wonderingly. "Isolde almost called her 'Mistress', and she actually bobbed Tina a curtsy!"

Solange scowled at that. Isolde was HER submissive, and it annoyed her to have the woman react that way to anyone other than herself, and particularly to this untrained newbie.

"I KNOW WHO SHE IS!" ShaJuana blurted out. "She's YOU! Or at least, how I think she SEES you, Solange."

"Whhaaaattt?!? ME? You're joking."

"No, no - look at her. Look at the way she's holding her head - just slightly cocked to one side, and look at that wicked little half smirk! You look just like that when you've pushed somebody into one of your little traps. Ty's in character and she's YOU!"

"What are you talking about?" Solange demanded sternly. "This isn't a show. This is real. That child has been violated and I haven't the slightest inkling what to do for her. . . him, because she isn't reacting at all the way she should be to such an outrage!"

"Her," ShaJuana corrected without thinking. "That's a 'her' right now, because that's the role Tyrone Edwards is playing. Solange, remember when I told you that when Ty is in character - really in character - it's something awesome?" The other woman nodded, and for the first time in minutes, turned her attention away from the CCTV screen. "What it really is, Solange, is genius - maybe even something more than that. And if I'm right, it isn't really Ty who was violated, and I'm betting, it wasn't the character he started out playing when he left the apartment. Somehow, he shifted roles so that punk tried to attack the person Ty sees when he studies you!"

"I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand what that means here and now. How can it not be Ty who was violated?"

"Look, Solange, it just is because that's the way Ty is. See, there was this play - a whodunit mystery thing, Sherlock Holmes detective story, a murder with too many clues and confusing as hell to watch. Should have folded in less than a week like that turkey when Ty and I first met, but instead, it had a pretty good run. Ty was this gay guy in a same sex relationship whose partner was the murder victim. That play earned this, well, cult following among the local LGBT community around here, even though they originally came to boo Ty 'cause they thought a gay actor should have gotten the role instead. Then, they kept coming because they loved his portrayal, and he wasn't even supposed to be the star. Ty was great in that play, but the point is that every night, after the curtain went down, Ty was still grieving for his character's dead partner because that's how deeply he gets into his role, and how much he FEELS his role. Sometimes, he'd need a few hours to recover from what that role did to him. Unless he had a major reason to shift into another role!"

"So what if you're right?" Solange was dubious, but still interested. "What would it take to get him to shift?"

"Well, I saw him do a shift for an evening show following a matinee a couple of times." ShaJuana told her, "And he usually only got a couple of hours of down time before he had to get ready to go again."

"I still don't see your point, ShaJuana."

"You have to get through to Ty somehow, and get him out of that role."

Solange started to speak, and then stopped herself. "There were fewer hours between the end of one show and the beginning of the next than what he usually needed to, oh I don't know, come back to himself?"

"That's JUST what I mean!" ShaJuana asserted. "Solange, he never missed a curtain or a cue; never gave a flat performance, even when there was only an hour or two between shows, but when there wasn't a show, he could take three, maybe four hours dealing with what the role did to him!"

"Remarkable."

"Yeah. It was kinda spooky at first, if you know what I mean. I thought it was like one of them multiple personality disorder things you hear about on Oprah, but that ain't what it is about Ty. He's just a really, really good actor who can live in his role every show, every time. I used to wish I could give him a few of my inches so he'd have a chance to show the world just how great he really is."

Solange considered Juana's words, trying to reconcile what she saw on the screen with what she knew about Ty, and what she'd just heard. Her eyes became speculative as she tried to decide what to do next. "You say he was always out of the grief-state and ready to start when the curtain went up on the next show?"

"Always." was the uncompromising response.

"I see." Solange became thoughtful as she turned her attention back to the CCTV screen. "So, to recapitulate, what you believe happened is that, when the person that Tina planned to be this morning was attacked, some part of Ty saw that the script had undergone a major, unexpected change, and that he needed a new characterization - ME - to respond to that threat properly?"

"I think that's about the size of it. Like I said, it takes something pretty major to break Ty out if he's really into his role, but having some asshole look like he's gonna rape you on the street would be high on my list of major."

Before Solange could reply, her phone rang. She answered it, started to speak, and thought better of it. "I'm going to put this on speaker. ShaJuana is here and she might be able to help sort this out. I expect you to speak openly, Solly!" she finished in tones that Juana thought sounded remarkably like those they'd just heard from Tina. Solange pressed the intercom button and set the handset back in the receiver. "Can you still hear me, Silly-Solly?"

"Yes, Mistress. Mistress, whoever that person in that room is, she's not someone I've worked with before. If I didn't know that person was Ty and Tina, . . God, Mistress, that girl is so dominant she makes my knees go weak. I wanted to kneel to her in there, and damn near did to help her on with her shoes."

"I see."

"Mistress, I can't do this scene with her today - not like we planned - not with her like that!" Isolde wailed, her tone rife with arousal and frustration. "She's like YOU! If I tried to scene with her right now, with me like this and her like that? Cripes, Mistress, I'll end up getting MY butt smacked, and that just wouldn't be good for my bitch-goddess image. . .even if I did like it."

"Slut," Solange said, the word conveying an affection totally out of keeping with its literal meaning.

"Maybe, but I'm YOUR slut, and I was almost swept away back there. Mistress, I think you better get to her and see what you can do about this."

"On my way. You go and get ready to do this scene solo if I can't help with Tina," she answered and then looked to ShaJuana who was doing her best to stifle a giggle-fit. "And what, may I ask, is so funny about this . . .this debacle?!?"

"It's no wonder that Isolde ended up submitting so quickly, Solange," ShaJuana replied, mirth lighting her face. "Tina was pushing a bunch of buttons you'd already put in place! Solly sees you in Tina, even if you don't!"

"As that may be," Solange said quellingly, but to very little affect. "You stay here. You're not supposed to be here and in her current mood, you might not like the consequences she'd impose for lying to her about your supposed audition."

"I hear that, Solange. Might not be all that good for my bitch-goddess image, either."

"Oh, I quite agree, my dear. Well, what do you say in the theater? Not 'Action,' is it?"

"Nope. That's film work. We do 'Up Curtain!'" Juana replied.

"I see. Well, 'Up Curtain,' and cue La Maitresse, Stage Right, " the older woman replied. Then she sailed toward her door, hoping she understood the actor well enough to do what needed to be done.

"Hey Solange?" ShaJuana called out just before the older woman reached the door. When she turned to look at her tall colleague, Juana gave her a broad grin and a thumbs up sign. "Break a leg, Maitresse."

Acting Dominant

Interlude - Meeting Yourself Coming and Going

Solange stood outside the prep room, quietly gathering herself. A great deal would depend on what came of the next few moments. It would thoroughly infuriate her if the plans she'd set in progress were derailed because she'd given into the impulse to play this, well, prank wasn't too far off the mark. That having Tina operating in public, en femme and on her own, was something those plans required was a given and something she'd eventually have had to instigate, but this had been done too casually.

Now she'd have to see what price would have to be paid for that impulse.

She knocked on the door, and was surprised at the command, for that is what it surely was, that responded. "Enter!" Wasn't that how she'd commanded Tina-the-maid to enter the room wherein Solange had been waiting to give Ty Edwards his first taste of sexual submission? A little cautiously, she entered.

The face that greeted her was femininely handsome, rather than pretty. Her posture was ram-rod straight, her demeanor direct. Moreover, the girl conveyed an air of aristocratic command that was almost palpable. The look Tina gave Solange as they approached one another was one the older woman had seen in her own mirror uncounted times over her life. In truth, it was one she'd practiced in front of her mirror when she'd first began her avocation as a dominant woman. It was rather disconcerting to have it turned on her.

"Are you all right, Tina?" she asked, by way of starting the conversation.

"Of course," was the positive reply. "Why would I not be?"

"I understand you had an altercation on the street - a friend called to tell me about it. Some young tough grabbed you?"

"No problem, Solange. He was a rodent, and I squashed him."

"I see. Well, then, what do you plan to do now?"

"Now?" For a moment, the aristocratic presentation faltered in confusion. "Why, I'm going to work with Isolde in her scene in, oh," she checked the clock, "about ten minutes."

"I don't think that's possible, dear." Solange said, apprehension coloring her tones. If she was wrong about how to handle this, they could lose Tina and Ty both.

"I beg your pardon. I am here, dressed in the outfit you provided, and fully prepared to do my part in this session."

"No, you're not," Solange contradicted, a sad look on her face as she pointed to the mirror. "Look at the woman in that mirror, dear. Is that the person Isolde needs in this session?"

A frown wrinkled the smooth forehead, and the blond-wigged head bent to one side as Tina complied with Solange's request. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.

"Not to put to fine a point to it, dear, but Isolde expects and needs a bimbo for the maximum effect in this scene. Remember, we discussed this yesterday?"

"Yes. . ," Tina replied, hesitantly, still staring at her reflection. Or had it been Tina who'd answered? Solange wondered if it had been her imagination, or had the timbre in that simple 'yes' been different? Almost more like . . . Tyrone?

"Where are the flirtatious looks, the giggles? You look like you're about to play drill instructor and order him to give you fifty, but that is not your role in this play. Isolde is the Domme in this scene, not you. You were to be the distraction, the eye candy, the cock tease - until the trap was sprung. You were supposed to be non-threatening, at least in comparison to Isolde, and right now, dear, you almost frighten me."

"Really?" And now the tone was definitely Tyrone. The head tilt was gone, as was the half smirk. A frown had replaced both, but it was a very firm frown that still had no hint of the seductive pout Solange hoped would indicate that bimbo-Tina was surfacing.

"Yes, dear," Solange said firmly as she tried to press on. "You are completely out of character for this role, and you will destroy the entire atmosphere of the scene if you go in there as you are now. In fact, I've ordered Isolde to rework the plan and be prepared to go solo."

Tyrone's head snapped around at that. "She can't do that!"

"Dear, she can't do anything else with you in this character mode," and there was steel in Solange's voice. If nothing else, she would make sure that Tina did not detract from the client's experience in her dungeon. "I really think that. . ."

Solange never got a chance to finish that thought as Ty abruptly stood up and held out a hand to stop any further comments. "Give me a minute," he ordered, and stepped away from the mirror, away from Solange, into a place only he could go. His eyes closed as his head sagged until it was impaled on the long-nailed fingers that were aimed at his temples.

Then, seconds later, the frown disappeared and the head came up.

"Well, that's just so totally not going to happen," Tina retorted, in a tone Solange had not heard this day. "You just give me like, a couple of minutes to fix my face, and I'll be ready. I'll totally like, mess with that guy's head - both heads - You'll see! He won't know what hit him," and she giggled, "Until Isolde breaks out her flogger, anyway. Hey, Solange-honey, could you help me with my face? I don't work as fast as you do and I don't want to be TOO late for the party. They might start without me and then I'd have to play catchup!"

Solange was stunned. In mere seconds, the posture had relaxed to a hip-shot stance that had her skirt riding up to expose bare flesh and white garters above the stocking tops. Her eyes softened and her lips seemed to relax, taking on a promise of easy sensuality and easier morals. Even her movements as she creamed away her cosmetics were less precise and more haphazard than they had been but minutes earlier when Solange had watched her on the security camera hidden behind the mirror.

Taking up a pot of foundation, Solange moved in to help Tina with her makeup. Throughout their impromptu make over session, the older Domina tried to break Tina's new characterization and discovered she couldn't. Tina, or perhaps it was Ty, had reacted to being told she wasn't ready to go on stage by shifting into the correct role. She was now the bimbo secretary that Isolde needed and expected. And it wasn't only the overtly 'sex-on-the-hoof' face that she had just painted on the girl - it was much, much more than that.

It was, Solange realized, that the person behind the face had become the role - just as ShaJuana had said she, or rather he, could and would do if presented with a sufficiently important reason.

"Neat! You're the best, Solange. I think I'm ready to paint that guy's balls blue for him, don't you?" She nearly choked on her laughter, but Solange managed a nodding agreement. Tina got to her feet, and gave a quick hip shimmy to check her balance in the skyscraper heels, and then grinned down at her still seated boss. "Great! See you laters, Moms, and thanks for the assist." Tina gave the still off-balance dominatrix a quick air kiss on the cheek and then giddily pranced out of the room.

"Moms? She called me MOMS? OOOOooo, just wait till I get that girl in a training session. She wants to call me Moms, does she?" And then Solange stopped. That was perfect for the role, she realized.

Solange got up and headed for her office. This was one scene she wanted to watch in its entirety. Something told her that Bimbo Tina was going to surprise more than the client today. She'd already surprised Solange.

~-~

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2008 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.