Double Take

by Nom de Plume

© 2003

  

Episode Five: Good Vibes, Big Apple

  

After two nights without sleep, Sandy was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he drove down Santa Monica Boulevard towards the Hollywood Hills. The evening rush was thinning out, but the surface streets were still a better bet than the freeways, and he tried to unwind with his favorite shock jock as he coped with the stop-and-go traffic.

His cell phone rang. It was Ashley, asking him what time she should expect him. "About forty minutes," he said as he stopped for another red light.

"Take your time. I made an appointment to get my nails done in half an hour. The coat I slapped on them after my night as your boyfriend isn't making it."

Sandy smiled at the memory. "Call them back and make an appointment for me, too."

"Why? Your nails look great."

"Not any more. Where's the salon? I'll meet you there." She gave him the address. "Okay, I'll be there in half an hour."

"What are you wearing?"

"That skirt and sweater again."

"How sweet."

"You liked what it did for me last night." He laughed as she whispered something obscene before they hung up.

Sandy's Audi had a manual transmission, and his short skirt kept riding up his silky legs as he played with the clutch. He was wearing Ashley's coed costume, except he had on a pair of sheer black tights. The nylons he wore the night before had been torn to shreds when Ashley undressed him on the sofa.

Sandy found the strip mall where the salon was located, and parked in the lot. Ashley was just getting out of her car. She was dressed in an identical outfit, only her skirt and sweater were a different color than Sandy's, and her legs were bare. "What look are we going for - 'The Olson's Go to College?'" he asked.

Ashley stuck out her tongue at him. "I always wanted a twin sister and a sensitive boyfriend. Now you're both mine," she said as she took his hand and led him into the salon.

* * *

Their nails restored, Ashley and Sandy walked hand-in-hand down Sunset Boulevard, turning heads as they went. Not an easy thing to do in West Hollywood, where celebrities rub shoulders daily with specimens of every known lifestyle, and a few that have yet to be classified.

As they strolled along, it occurred to Sandy that unless he planted a kiss on her, it would be impossible for strangers to take them for anything other than a fun pair of loving twins. Their close resemblance was a natural antidote against their being mistaken for a couple of lesbians.

At the same time, it occurred to Ashley that the presence of her look-alike seemed to cloak her identity as the TV star Ashley Vaughn. People weren't coming up to her for autographs like they usually did. It was almost as if they could only see a pair of identical twins, who happened to look like somebody famous.

As he glanced at their reflection in the shop windows, Sandy wondered whether he would miss all this when his fantasy life with Ashley came to an end, as it surely would some day. He was hopelessly in love with a woman who shared his most secret desires. Magic like this only happened in the movies.

And as she watched him maneuvering in a short skirt like he was born to it, Ashley wondered how she had ever gotten along without Sandy Lane in her life. It was wonderful having a soulmate who understood the little things a woman had to put up with every day. Was this guy perfect, or what?

They spied a Mexican restaurant with some quiet tables on an upstairs terrace. Over margaritas and quesadillas, they caught up on their days.

"Pay your mortgage?"

"Oops."

"Sweetheart, you're going to get your ass kicked out of there if you can't remember to pay your bills."

"Then I'll have to move in with you."

"Will you cook for me every night?"

"If you let me pick out my own clothes."

"What happened to your nails?"

"Uh, I was fixing a ding in an old surfboard, and I got acetone all over my hands."

"You're such a guy."

They chatted throughout the meal about nothing in particular, content just to be with each other, sharing a special kind of bond that few men and women will ever experience. While they were waiting for the check, Ashley rubbed Sandy's tights under the table. She pressed her head against his and whispered, "Let's fuck."

"Baby, you're gonna put me back in the hospital," Sandy sighed.

That night, they undressed each other slowly, lovingly, before they fell naked into Ashley's bed. After the past two nights, Sandy wasn't sure he had another orgasm left in him. He was about to suggest that they call it a night when he heard Ashley opening the drawer on her nightstand. There was a buzzing sound, and his penis jumped when she started to massage his aching balls with her vibrator.

As he began to stiffen, she slid the vibrator between his legs and gently inserted it into his ass. Bit by bit, she eased it higher and higher as they lay side by side. At the same time, she was coaxing his weary penis back to life with her tender fingers. When he started to groan, she pulled him on top of her and guided him in, keeping up the pressure with the vibrator as she rocked back and forth. When the tip of her vibrator grazed his prostate, he cried out in ecstasy, and his whole body shuddered from the excruciating waves of pleasure. Ashley cried out with him, lost in the throes of her own multiple orgasms.

They lay together quietly for a long time, their hearts pounding in unison as their panting slowly subsided. At that moment, there was no distinction between man and woman. Sandy and Ashley were absolutely, totally consumed by their love for one another. When they finally fell asleep, he was still inside her.

For the first time since the death of Toby Goodfin, Sandy slept soundly through the night, surrendering himself to his sweet dreams.

* * *

The studio wakeup service had to call Ashley's number twice before she finally picked up the phone. Five o'clock in the morning! They staggered out of bed and pulled themselves together for another day on location at Lunada Bay. They dressed alike again, only this morning they looked like refugees from a women's college on a dateless weekend. Ashley ran into a Starbuck's to grab some coffee for the drive across Los Angeles, and they sipped their lattes contentedly as they drove to work together.

Two hours later, they emerged from the makeup trailer, drop-dead gorgeous in their hot pink wetsuits. Sandy and Ashley never flirted with one another on the set, their torrid romance a deeper Hollywood secret than the sex of the surfer who did Pepper Reef's action scenes. But today, it was hard for Sandy to keep his hands off her when they were in the water together, out of sight of the cameras and crew.

"I thought I wore you out last night," she said as she took his hand off her ass. "Stop that!"

A shrill whistle pierced the air. They looked up to see Darla Palmer waving at them from the rocky shore, looking out of place in her suit and heels. Sandy and Ashley got on their surfboards and began to paddle in.

Darla eyed them warily as they came out of the water. She knew trouble when she saw it, and these two had trouble written all over them. Just what the network needed: a secret love affair between their hottest new star and her stunt double. God knew what would happen if the tabloids got wind of it. What could be worse? The innuendo that Ashley Vaughn was a closet lesbian, or the revelation that her stunt double and secret lover was a closet crossdresser?

She waited until they dried themselves off and peeled off their wetsuits. Dressed in matching sweats, they looked adorable as they joined her in a small tent which had been set up at the base of the bluff. "Coffee?" she asked as they sat down next to her in canvas yacht chairs.

Both nodded yes, and she watched intently as they took their mugs and sipped the hot coffee. Sandy Lane was a gifted mimic, and a natural actor. If a person didn't know them, it would be impossible to tell the man from the woman. "I wanted to bring you up to date on a new direction that the show is going to be taking," she said at length.

The both looked at her expectantly as they sipped their coffee. "Our ratings are still way up there, but they're starting to slip, and we need to spice up the story line a bit. It's going to make things a little crazy on the set, but it should be fun for both of you."

"What are you talking about?" Ashley asked. Or was it Sandy?

"We're going to be introducing a new character."

"What kind of character?" Sandy asked. Or was it Ashley?

"Pepper Reef has an identical twin sister."

"What?" they asked simultaneously.

"That's right. A citified, girly-girl who lives in New York. Her named Coral."

"Coral Reef. Give me a break," one of them said.

"She's the brainy one. Pepper was always the tomboy. So Ashley is going to play Coral, and Sandy is going to play Pepper. Coral will have most of the lines. All Pepper has to do is look hot and surf like a banshee."

The both had long faces. "Ashley, I'm surprised at you," Darla said, still not sure which one of them was which. "This is a chance for you to show some range."

"What about me?" Sandy said, finally spoiling the game. "I signed up to surf, not to play the dumbo in a sister act."

"That's what worries me," Ashley broke in. "I've worked hard to make Pepper Reef credible. It hasn't been easy with the crap your writers are turning out."

"Well, you're going to love the next episode. Pepper saves Coral from a freak tidal wave that strikes New York."

"That's ludicrous!"

"No more than Mitch performing open-heart surgery on a surfboard on Baywatch. People are still talking about that episode."

"Still laughing at it, you mean. What if we refuse?"

Sandy answered for her. "I know, I know…read our contracts."

Darla got up to leave. "This is a huge opportunity for us to penetrate the New York market, so you'd better get with the program. We're on location in Manhattan next week."

* * *

Sandy and Ashley paused to look up at the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, lost in love. They were just like hundreds of other couples passing under the majestic boughs of the brilliantly lit Norway spruce, with one little difference.

Once again Grace had performed a miracle, for Ashley this time. She was very distinguished with her straight nose and rakish mustache. With lifts in her Gucci loafers, a man's brown wig, and padded shoulders on her Armani suit, Ashley Vaughn was tall, dark and handsome. Her crisp white shirt and Hermes tie peeked above the lapels of her black cashmere topcoat. A $100 tip to the head of the costume department had worked wonders.

As for Sandy, he was radiant in the same little black dress he had worn during his love scene with Randy Romaine. His white fox jacket drew angry stares from animal rights activists, but that was their problem. His only problem was the cold wind blowing through the concrete canyons of midtown Manhattan. When Sandy surfed the waters of Alaska, he was never near this cold. His legs were purple under his sheer black stockings as the wind whipped his dress around his knees.

No matter. Just one of the many joys of being a woman, he said to himself as he tottered along beside Ashley in his high heels. They window shopped in front of Saks Fifth Avenue, like all the other tourists, before they started walking through the busy sidewalks towards a French restaurant in the theater district. They had to hurry to make sure they would be finished with dinner in time for their Broadway show.

When they entered the exclusive restaurant, Ashley took Sandy's coat and handed it to the check girl. A murmur swept through the elegant clientele as they were shown to their booth. "That's Ashley Vaughn. You know, the TV star." Ashley beamed while Sandy stopped to sign an autograph for a nervous high school girl at a nearby table.

Ashley ordered for both of them, Martinis to start, and then a bottle of expensive Champagne to accompany their five course dinners. Sandy just kicked back and went with the flow, reveling in the sensations of being a pretty girl out on the town. Flickering candles danced in their eyes as they shared their fantastic secret. When Ashley reached under the table and put her hand on Sandy's knee, he slid it all the way up his silky thigh, a hint of things to come that night.

* * *

They slept past noon at their suite at the Waldorf Towers, utterly sated from the most spectacular night of their lives. Again and again, Sandy and Ashley had come together in shattering orgasms that took them both to places they had never been.

It was Sandy's turn to put on the nose and mustache that morning. They had one more free day before shooting began on the tidal wave episode, and Sandy told Ashley he wanted to take her Christmas shopping. She was content to let him be the guy today, and it excited her to see him as a handsome man for the first time. Someday, maybe…

After a room service breakfast, Sandy and Ashley walked along Fifth Avenue, holding hands as they made their way through the bustling crowds in the brisk December air. Sandy wore a turtleneck under Ashley's Armani suit, while she had on a jacket, pants and high leather boots. With her sunglasses and beret, she was unrecognizable as a Hollywood star, and she was enjoying her anonymity and wondering what to get him for Christmas when he pushed her through the brass doors of Tiffany's.

"What are we doing here?"

Sandy led her over to the cases full of engagement rings. "What do you think?" he said. She was trembling as he pointed out a two carat diamond in a Tiffany setting and asked a salesman to get it out for them. He slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly.

Sandy dropped to his knee and reached up for her hand. "Ashley Vaughn, will you marry me?" The customers and sales personnel burst into spontaneous applause as she dragged him to his feet and hugged him, crying, "Yes! Yes!"

He kissed her passionately, as if they were the only two people in the world. "Merry Christmas," he said gently.

"Oh Sandy, I haven't gotten you anything yet," she cried.

He wiped a tear from her eye. "All I want is more batteries for your vibrator."

The salesman raised an eyebrow. "Shall I wrap it up for you, or would you like to wear it?" he asked discreetly.

"I'll wear it. But first, let me try something." She slipped the ring off her finger, and tried sliding it onto the ring finger of Sandy's left hand. With an effort, she got it over the knuckle. "You never know," she said as she pulled it back off. "I might feel like wearing the pants again some day."

The salesman didn't bat an eye as she slipped the diamond back on her finger. That's what he loved about New York. Just when you though you had seen everything….

* * *

Back at the Waldorf, Ashley and Sandy lounged on the sofa in the parlor of their suite. After sharing a room service dinner and a hot bath, they wore nothing but the Towers' signature terrycloth bathrobes. Ashley's head was on Sandy's lap as they read through tomorrow's script together:

1. Int. Day. Oscar's at the Waldorf. Marketing executive CORAL REEF, dressed in a severe black suit, is sitting in a booth, studying The New York Times. A headline on the first page reads "UNUSUAL SEISMIC ACTIVITY OFF COAST OF NEWFOUNDLAND". Her identical twin sister PEPPER REEF, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, joins her.

CORAL (pouring skim milk into her muesli)

You're late.

PEPPER

What a hassle! How can you live here?

CORAL

What's the matter? Couldn't find a place to park your skateboard?

"God, this is so lame!" Ashley sighed as she turned the page.

"At least we get to go back to California for the water scenes."

For the hundredth time, Ashley held up her hand and admired her ring. "I'm gonna hate having to take this off tomorrow."

"Won't be for long"

"What do you mean?"

"Wet Girls as about to jump the shark."

"Huh?"

"Remember that scene on Happy Days when The Fonz jumped over a shark on water skis? The show never recovered. Same thing's gonna happen after this episode."

* * *

Lieutenant Goering and his teenage daughter sat on the edge of their chairs in front of the television in their family room. Pepper and Coral were riding tandem on a longboard through Central Park, dodging the tops of trees as they dropped down the face of a fifty foot wave. "Yes!" his daughter shouted as they shot out of the tube and rode the tsunami towards New Jersey, their skimpy dresses clinging to their wet bodies.

"How did they do that?" the lieutenant asked.

"Special effects, Daddy. They really aren't surfing in New York."

"I know that. But there are two of them. They must really be identical twins," he said as the incredible possibility slowly registered.

"Oh Daddy," she sighed. "They just morphed Ashley Vaughn's face onto some other girl's body."

"They can do that?"

"Sure. Remember the end of Jurassic Park, when the raptor almost ate the little girl? That was a gymnast, and they morphed the girl's face right onto her."

"Oh."

After she left to do her homework, the lieutenant pondered in silence for some time. Could it possibly be? Could one of them have committed the perfect murder, while the other one provided the perfect alibi?

Nah, he said to himself as he switched on the Lakers game. That sort of thing only happens in TV land.

 

To be continued? Let the readers decide….

By the author of The Jessica Project, www.geocities.com/thejessicaproject/author

  

  

  

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