Girlfriends

by Vickie Tern

 

Four

I had to attract her Boss's sexual attention when he interviewed me, so the next week I went back to my office trying to behave like a sexy woman. The girls noticed that I was getting increasing provocative, even sluttish. "Whoa," Connie said to me. "If that's the kind of girl you are, maybe you won't fit in here much longer. We're nice girls. You know, you really should stop and chat with us more. We trade makeup tips with each other all the time, and some of the girls really want to help you improve your appearance." She looked back at me and added as she left, "But none of them will tell you how to go overboard!"

I was acting more and more sexually inviting because Tracy was teaching me how, each night when she got home, for long hours. I'd had no idea she knew that much about how to exciting men. She showed me gestures, postures, how to put on lipstick so a man seeing me do it will come in his pants, and how to use my eyes to look inviting and sex-starved, especially how to glance sideways from the corners of my eyes.

We ran different interview scenarios, with Tracy always the boss. In some he was insinuatingly suggestive, and I learned how to register distaste to the camera and no offense taken to him, and uncertainty, and finally duress, before I went down on my knees and sucked hungrily on "the Emperor" as it stood up like a mountain peak from between my wife's legs. In some the boss was attentive and considerate and I was doubtful and worried, and I managed a small, plaintive "Do I have to?" before "he" turned me around and laid me face forward on the desk in our study, and then reamed me for almost a half-hour. I walked with a limp for two days after that session.

And the next night Tracy again came home weary, also walking with a limp. "Did he do it again?" I asked, knowing the answer and afraid to hear it.

Tracy just nodded.

This time I could ask. "Did you like it?"

Tracy looked at me. "What do you think?" My face registered that I didn't know what to think, so she told me, in an uncommonly hard voice, "Yes, I loved it. His cock is hot, and when I'm flying on it I'm somewhere in another world, and it's glorious to feel cum boil and pulse out of it and splash all over my insides—against the top of my cunt, into my guts, whatever part of me he's fucking. You remember, you used to do that kind of thing to me while you were still a man. But you wanted to be a woman."

"Tracy!" I said, deeply hurt. "That was for you! It's all been for you! What are you saying?"

My face began to break up.

Tracy relented. "Yes. And so is this. For you. Don't be offended darling. I'm being tough on you now because obviously you're still envious of another man, and you resent that he's fucked me. That's more macho competitiveness again. You'll never be a convincing sexually-harassed woman if you're being a jealous man the whole time. He'll sense something's wrong, something antagonistic in you, and he'll get wary and back off."

She took my hand and spoke earnestly, pleadingly. "Try not to care. If you're not a man, why should you care? You're my husband and my whole life, but more than that, you're my girlfriend, and when your girlfriend tells you she's having a good time getting laid, tell her, 'Good for you!'

"Now try it! I'll say it again, and it's all true. My boss really did stick it to me today, honey, twice in the cunt and again in my ass with that big prick of his. We spent the whole afternoon in each others' arms, doing everything we could think of to make each other feel wonderful! My tits are as sore as my pussy and my asshole. And I'm all stretched out. I can't begin to remember how many orgasms I've had!'"

I was bewildered. But I said it. "Good for you!"

Tracy came close and kissed me on the lips. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're learning. I did enjoy it of course, what woman wouldn't? But I'm doing my job, and you've got to do yours. Now, tonight I mean to force you to my will, to rape you in fact, and I want you to resist but be worried the whole time that if you don't give in just a little you won't be hired. I want to use force. Then we'll talk about your performance afterward, how to improve it."

And she did. She even tied me up and blindfolded me. I got so I'd accept any indignity in any of my orifices. I still don't know what some of the things were she fed into me.

The second week, Tracy shifted the scenarios. "Now you know a lot about being a victim," she said. "He may not come on to you at all, so this week I want you to be a seductress, really let him know you're easy and available, so maybe we can catch him trafficking in sexual favors, trading a job for a fuck. That would get him fired quickly enough I expect. Nothing obvious, but make sure he knows that if you get what you want, he'll get what he wants. Negotiate salaries and job specs as if you had your mouth on his cock or he had his cock in your pussy."

So all through that week I learned feminine wiles. I teased, I wheedled, I absent-mindedly stroked or sucked on my finger as if it were a penis, I looked deep into "his" eyes all the while "he" was talking, never looking away, I licked my lips, I repeated everything he said in a sultry voice, and I leaned forward so he could look down my cleft—I was beginning to get one, and a push-up bra provided what I hadn't yet grown. "The Emperor" spent so much time down my throat that it stayed sore, and my voice was reduced to a whisper. Tracy got me some special soothing lozenges that brought my voice back up, but to a high-pitched Bimbo squeal. So in that voice I explained over and over that I'd love to have "his" cock up my cunt, but because of my period I wanted him instead up my ass, or I moaned seductively that pussies were for ordinary men, while "he" deserved my extraordinary still-tight opening and I wanted him to have it! I let him know what fringe benefits came with my job. I learned to flip up my skirt to show my frilliest panties or my bare ass so enticingly that "he" would lunge at me without hesitating.

In bed together each night afterward, we went over what had happened and looked for ways to improve my performance. Tracy was right. If as a man I felt the least distaste for my "man," or felt the least bit competitive or jealous, it ruined my presentation as a sweet young thing, or as a seducer. Whatever the kinds of girls and women and seductresses I was enacting, I had to convince myself that I was Tracy's girlfriend, nothing but her girlfriend, not her husband, not previously male or still male, but a woman in all things, with a woman's desires and concerns.

So while we were both separately at work, Tracy urged me to become completely one of the girls in my office, to spend as much time as I could with them, to chat with them and learn to sympathize with their problems with parents and husbands and boyfriends, to share my own concerns, and to swap information about nail polishes, and male sexual stamina, and masturbation with vibrating dildoes, whatever was of interest. The secretaries talked about all of these things. So every day I went to lunch with the other girls, and we giggled and laughed and whispered conspiratorially. And talked about guys. As different men went by our tables, we'd issue shorthand judgments, whether fat and bald, or tall and lean, whether heavy-muscled boors or genteel hunks.

Like the other girls, I had to be able to say what appealed to me or not in a man, and to allow myself to feel attracted when one or another walked by, so I'd know. I opened myself a little. I realized that the right man, not a hunk, a little soft even, preferably blond, preferably with a casual manner, and certainly gentle, could get past some of my defenses. I might even like being with one. The girls knew I was married, but I pretended I'd stepped out of line with my wife's cousin last summer because he was just that kind of man. They assumed that Tracy was getting laid all over the city, I noticed, now that I was a woman much more interested in men. I told them my attitude was, "If so, good for her!"

Sometimes after work we'd stop at a local bar or cocktail lounge, and actually flirt with different men who came up to try their luck with our tableful of unattended good looking women. I tried some of my little girl lines, and my victim techniques, and my sultry seductress mannerisms, to the vast amusement of the other girls, who wanted to know where I had learned to do and say such things. I started to explain with some pride "From my wife," but I was trying to persuade myself I had no wife. So I just said, "My girlfriend's been around, and tries these things on a lot of guys, and thinks I should too." True enough, I thought gloomily. I'd noticed that Tracy wasn't wearing panties sometimes when she went to work. "Why bother?" she said. "They're off ten minutes after I arrive at the office, and then they stay off all day to provide access all day. They'd only get drenched in cum. The man's a goat. Not that the sex isn't great...." She looked at me and waited.

"Good for you," I said to my wife. "You're lucky to have found a man like that, sweetheart. What's his cock like?"

She looked at me, unable to tell if I was asking out of girlish curiosity or bitter jealousy. "You'll find out soon enough," was all she replied.

The third week, Tracy told me, I would have to be a free-lance full-time woman in every sense of the word, because the interview was scheduled for the Monday immediately following. She was setting up a series of tests I'd have to pass before she'd feel I was qualified for what I had to do. She wouldn't tell me what they'd be. I told her meanwhile that there should be no "loving friends" sessions between us that third week—she would have to be a man with me in every sense that I was a lady. She was delighted that I'd thought of this on my own. So each night when she got home—she was back to long hours again—she changed to pants or a sweatshirt and then tried different pickup or seduction techniques on me. I'd yield quickly so we could get to bed, where still in character, Tracy would make gentle or rough love to me, depending on who she was.

"What does this have to do with being a harassment victim," I asked her one day, when the answer eluded me? "I don't feel harassed. I feel like an inexperienced girl on a date, or an experienced woman trying to encourage some shy man into greater intimacies, and sometimes you get me feeling like a whore with her John."

"That's right," said Tracy. "That's the key. You're all of those. You're a girl trying to impress or encourage a man, which is what every girl learns to do before she's out of her teens. You do that and all the rest will follow. We're going out every night this week, to give you some experience with real men. You still don't know what it feels like for a beard to be scratching on your mouth while you're sucking on some guy's tongue. I can't be a man past a certain point. We're at that point."

So each night we dressed in mini skirts, net stockings, high, high heels, no bras, and bright colored satin blouses, and went to a different disco or bar. Within a few minutes there were guys sitting with us, and we jested and joked and bantered with them while they bought us drinks and from time to time asked one of us to dance. Tracy was astonishing. She could be ingratiating, open, sincere, tough, vulnerable, sweet, bold, sprightly, coy, whatever the situation called for, that was what she was. Mostly she promised greater intimacy by looking her partners unwaveringly in the eyes. They'd look back while the air thickened between them, and when it seemed unendurable, and neither of them could breathe, Tracy would say suddenly, "Let's dance!" They'd dance plastered to each other, and I noticed that Tracy's partners usually came back with huge wet areas in the crotches of their pants—Tracy had brought them off by rubbing up against them. When we went to the Ladies together I commented on it.

Tracy shrugged. "I learned to do that when I was still in my teens," she said. Get them started, and they never pull back. Then when they blow their wads they're less keen for you to do other things with them—they're not sure they can get it up again so soon. You do know, don't you, that when you accepted that muscle man's drink, Toby's his name?, and then let him drape his hand over your shoulder and onto your tit, you guaranteed him a French kiss, a hand job, or a blow job, whichever he'd settle for?" I hadn't known. "Well, my bar-pickups get to cum in their pants if I accept their favors, so later I owe them nothing they're able to collect. You'd better tend to Toby pretty soon—bar pickups can get nasty."

So for the first time in my life, I unzipped a man's fly and took his cock in my hand, and then slowly jerked him off under the table, all the while listening to some man opposite me telling some kind of story. Toby's cock was stiff, yet softer and warmer than any of the dildoes I'd gotten used to. I held tight to it and moved my hand, and the outer skin slipped back and forth on the inner like a smooth loose pelt, until he stiffened and I could feel it throb. He shot his cum onto the pants of the man sitting opposite, who suddenly stopped telling his story and got a puzzled expression on his face.

I told the girls at work all about it the next day, and we laughed and giggled about it all through lunch. We felt so superior! The next night I jerked off another guy while he French kissed me standing together in an alcove near the bar, and then like Tracy, I made two more cum in their pants while we danced. It got to be fun! Men were so easy!

Getting ready to go out Friday night, Tracy said some odd things to me. "Honey, we're going out tonight with some of the people I work with. They all know me, and we're easily familiar with each other, so don't be shocked if one of them pats me on the rump, or another one rubs himself on my tits while we're dancing. If one of them should put the make on me, and for the sake of tonight's scenario I encourage him, what will your response be, girlfriend?"

"Good for you."

And what will my response be if one of them comes on to you?"

"The same."

"That's right. Remember that! Tonight, we're two girls who've put in a hard week at our offices, and are now looking for a little fun. We both know what guys are like and how to enjoy them. So lets. Give them what they want, and get what you want. But be sure to stay in control. That's the most important thing of all."

So made up in our "seductress" modes, we took a cab—Tracy pointed out that we'd both be drinking—to one of the town's better supper clubs, for dinner and dancing. There were six or eight people in our group, and it was remarkable how naturally vivacious and flirtatious Tracy became as she joined them. She was a Queen Bee who immediately seized everyone's attention, laughing and teasing and telling anecdotes with amused excitement. I could see why she came home exhausted, if this was the manner and pace she maintained all day. I began to sit down between two of the women, rather quiet wives it turned out, but before I could pull out the chair and smile at them and introduce myself a blond man about my age swept up to me, seized my hand by the wrist, and deftly twirled me away from the table and toward the dance floor.

"At last!" he said. "Tracy's famous secret girlfriend, much talked about and never seen! It's wonderful she persuaded you to come tonight! We must talk! Never mind these other people, they're all slow and dull. Let's go to the bar and get some drinks, and leave them to bore each other."

We did. I remembered to keep a sweet smile on my face and to sip, and nibble, and draw him out. His name was Ken, and he was English, some kind of process specialist with Tracy's firm, with a bantering, easy attitude toward everything.

I commented that he never seemed to take anything seriously, and he replied, "Oh, don't be deceived, my dear one, it's the serious things that especially require a light touch. 'Light' doesn't mean superficial, just skilled and effortless. Delicate, like when you make love—would you rather sleep with a man who grunts and paws you, or with a man who seems to dance over you. And in you of course."

I actually blushed at that, and he was charmed. "You're the first woman I've seen blushing in the four years I've been in this country. How did your maidenly modesty survive your little girl discovery of what little boys are really good for. Good heavens, don't tell me that you haven't...!"

I nodded, and blushed deeper.

His manner changed. Subtly, he became more attentive, less frivolous, more sincere. He began to behave as if I were a fragile flower. When he led me to the dance floor I felt clumsy, but he moved with such relaxed grace I felt like a decorative doll floating in his arms. When he led me back to our cocktail table, I was delightedly looking into his eyes—hazel they were—while he continued to chat, then to talk. The main table where Tracy held sway was full, as was another table for four, so at his suggestion we settled into a table for two, ordered, and ate while our tete a tete continued.

I'd been feminizing myself for Tracy, mainly to please her. And I'd learned to play a variety of feminine roles, just as Tracy was playing a scintillating great lady right now not twenty feet away from us. But with Ken I was, simply, pleased to be feminine because of the pleasure I felt that I could attract and hold this wonderful man's attention. By dessert I was doting on him while he continued to talk hopefully and yet comfortably about his future expectations, and amusedly about his blunders in the past. When we danced between courses, I let him hold me close, and pressed my cheek against his. His was indeed scratchy.

We were laughing delightedly together over some silliness a friend had committed when Tracy suddenly appeared at our table with a tall, rather burly man in tow. He had straight black hair on his head and curly black hair on his wrists, and he grinned an easy, confident smile as we were introduced. He nodded to Ken as they sat down, and glanced at me now and then while Tracy chatted animatedly with him about this and that, posturing as she'd shown me to do, patting up stray hairs on the back of her head, making little smiling moues at him, dipping her head and looking up at him through long-lashed eyes so attractive I wanted to seize and kiss her myself. I imagined myself posturing seductively to the dark-haired man, and then imagined it with Ken. With Ken it came naturally. I wondered what kissing Ken would be like.

I was feeling very good. An attractive man was attracted to me. For tonight Tracy had chosen for me a long, figure-clinging dark-red sequinned gown that flowed over my slim hips. Weeks of enforced salads and little else for dinner had given me a small waist, laced in still further, and my breasts were finally showing a generous swelling curvature above my ribs. I held my own in the conversation, teasing, seemingly vulnerable, sometimes wittily amused, now and then again blushing at some overly-intimate comment, but always in control. I was quite a girl, if I do say so. I was in fact so delighted with myself that I didn't register it at first when the altogether unexpected happened.

Tracy came back from dancing with her large, black-haired man and picked up her purse. "Ta ta, darling," she said to me. "I'm off with Roger here to spend the weekend at his shore estate, for the swimming and boating and the other pleasures he's promised me."

She glanced at this Roger from the corners of her eyes and let a smile linger, exactly as she'd taught me to do when I wanted to say discreetly to a man in front of everyone, "And I'm going to love getting fucked royally the whole time." Roger got the message and grinned back at her.

"Have fun dears," she continued. Then again to me. "Whatever you do, sweetie, remember to be home early Monday morning. We're both off from work, but there's the Beauty Salon appointment at 10:00 -- we've ordered up your Innocent Vamp look -- and then there's our appointment—remember it? -- at two. There'll be no time for lunch, so your girlish figure will stay girlish enough I'm sure."

She paused to look at me. "But it doesn't have to stay virginal. Get in all the last minute womanly experiences you can! I mean to." And she was gone.

"She's wonderful, Tracy is!" I looked up. It was Ken speaking, leaning toward me almost as if offering consolation. "How long have you known her?"

"I don't know," I replied truthfully, shocked, near tears. "I'd thought about six years. Maybe not at all!"

Suddenly I couldn't take it! I turned toward this wonderful man I'd just met, and now had to trust. "Ken, please take me home!" My voice broke, ever so slightly.

"Of course!"

He did. But to his home, and there followed the most marvelous weekend of my life.

I was at first so distracted by that last image of my wife superbly, breezily, with tantalizing poise, sweeping away on the arm of another man, that I didn't notice that we were getting out of the car at the wrong house. Then Ken invited me in for a drink, and I went in with him. We settled on the couch, and he held my hand, and he looked out of his long-lashed hazel eyes into my eyes. In a low, gentle voice, he then told me that he knew the truth about me, everyone at Tracy's office did, and that he loved that truth about me because the truth about him was that he was gay. He said that he had wanted to make love to me from the moment he first saw me.

I actually took cheer from his confession. "You did?" I asked in a small, surprised voice.

In reply he kissed me, softly, gently, sweetly. Then again. I closed my eyes and sighed, and my arms folded around his neck, and I kissed him. His tongue entered into my mouth, soft and moist, and playfully wriggly. I loved it, I kissed it, I worshipped it with my own tongue, with my lips, and with all my heart.

An hour later we were blissfully in bed together, and he was inside me and wrapped all around me, and I felt complete. Safe. Then I felt like many things all through that night, like a blazing fireplace, like perfume in a breeze, like honey flowing over soft skin and being licked, like tender spring grass nibbled by fawns. I felt loved as no man has ever been loved. It went on and on. Early Monday morning he woke me with a tender kiss and I kissed him back as sweetly as I could. We had passed the whole weekend in bed being as intimate with each other as two people can be, as if we were one loving being, not two, each of us fountains of joy pouring and splashing down on each other. Yet I felt wonderfully refreshed. Not stretched, nor sore, nor used up. Rather, newborn, liberated, myself completely for the first time. I drifted into my clothes, and with a long, loving farewell kiss, went directly to my beauty parlor appointment.

 

Five

There I found Tracy waiting for me. "Well, pretty hubby," she said. "I see you haven't been home since Friday night. That sequinned dress is lovely, but do you think it's suitable for a Monday morning? Did you have a good time?" She looked at me with a slight smile, and I saw that her last question was neither casual nor frivolous.

"Yes, I did," I said, still feeling a little dreamy. I hesitated a moment, then decided to tell her the truth. "Tracy, it was like a honeymoon. It was perfect. In some ways better than ours, I think."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's wonderful! You've finally found yourself where I'd hoped you'd be! Good for you!" I heard no irony in her voice, and when I looked closely at her, I saw she was genuinely happy for me. Maybe my lapse in marital fidelity had made the burden of hers lighter? Maybe she just felt happy that I felt happy? Maybe somehow, all of my new experiences with men assured the success of our mission to trap her boss in the act of taking unfair advantage of a woman? Maybe all of these things?

Three hours later I left the salon painted up with my "innocent vamp" look, and a half-hour after that I was off with Tracy for my interview wearing a cute business suit with a flared jacket and pencil-thin skirt and a low-cut white silk blouse. No panties—I saw Tracy wasn't wearing any, so I saw no reason why I should. I was still feeling blissful, the same cute minx, the same lovely girl I'd been in Ken's arms all weekend. As we left the house Tracy told me she was very proud, that I seemed to be fully ready. When we arrived at her boss's office I was still clutching my purse and chatting animatedly with Tracy, and we swept past his secretary scarcely noticing.

Then came my first shock. There was Roger behind her boss's desk! Tall and dark and formidable. The man she'd breezed off with to spend the weekend with was the same man who'd sexually harassed her, or intimidated her into being unfaithful to me, or dishonored her. My mind whirled in confusion!

With a magisterial wave of his hand he motioned me to a chair near his and finished reading some papers. Then he set them down and gave me his full attention, and grinned reassuringly as I sat down very primly, knees close together and purse in my lap, staring wide-eyed at him, bewildered. I noticed that Tracy had settled herself on the couch, and that she glanced once at a TV camera over the door aimed at his desk area.

What came next was not expected either, not in any of the scripts Tracy had worked out for me.

"Well, my dear," he said in a hearty, welcoming voice, "When I saw you last Friday evening it was so hard to believe you were once a man that this morning I had to review all the reports we have on you for myself." He gestured at the thick folder in front of him. "Your wife's done wonders with you! By the way, you don't mind if I call her Tracy, do you? We've been...close associates longer than you've been married. I interviewed her just before your wedding, in fact, and when we were finished, I offered her the job and she accepted it. You hadn't been in her rear then yet, had you? It was the tightest, sweetest hole I've ever fucked. Well, I made it easier for you when you did get there, I'm sure. And of course, I'm one of the half-dozen executives Tracy reports to daily, so I've been intimate with her by now more times than I can count."

He paused. I nodded as if I understood, still wide-eyed, but unable to move. What was I hearing?

"Tracy tells me that you're now at ease sexually with lesbians, and gay men too, and safely incapable of intercourse with straight women but otherwise skilled at satisfying them. I've already seen for myself that you're lively, attractive, poised, and comfortable in difficult social settings. I must say, you're remarkably self-controlled under stress. I'd wanted simply to slip away with your wife for the weekend, but Tracy insisted that you'd hear out what we meant to do without any jealousy, without causing a scene, and you did. That was really impressive. That's exactly the kind of person we've been looking for! No confusion of business obligations with personal needs."

He leaned forward, reassuringly. "Now, I'm sure you'll appreciate that I need to know certain things for certain before we proceed. First, would you mind pulling up your skirt to show me that your penis is now in fact too small to matter? I don't like to embarrass you, but Tracy's told me that neither of you would be wearing underpants today, so just a glimpse will serve. I'm sorry if it distresses your modesty, but it can't be helped."

Well, here was a kind of requested sexual intimacy of sorts, the kind we'd rehearsed. But this interview wasn't going at all the way we'd predicted! I glanced at Tracy, who glanced in turn at the TV camera over the door and then smiled reassuringly at me. So, I slowly pulled up my skirt until my cock was just barely visible. Tracy had taken to calling it my "teeny weeny" as the hormones reduced it in size.

"Thank you, dear. Tracy is right, you are certainly no stud. But we have plenty of people who are, so it doesn't matter. You'll meet them soon enough. It'll make a nice clit when you get yourself fully qualified. But let me tell you what we have in mind."

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. Was that thick file there really mine? What's been going on!?

"What we've needed is a personnel service specialist like Tracy here, to be brought in whenever deals need closing, or people feel injured and need to feel appreciated, whenever lots of things." He pronounced the word the way Tracy did, "personal". "This person needs to be attractive of course, and comfortable with gay or bisexual men, an area where Tracy has no natural expertise. Also, impotence is an advantage, so women can get intimate without feeling threatened, or tempted afterward to try to extort money from us by crying 'Rape!' Yet this person will also need to service men like me when Tracy's unavailable."

"I must say, you came through our preliminary tests this week very well. And as for your ability to satisfy gay men, Ken reports that you are absolutely top drawer, satisfying in every respect, though he adds"—Roger picked up a paper from near the top of the pile—"he adds that you'll need to seem better satisfied by whoever you're with -- it seems that no matter what he did, you always wanted more of it!" He grinned reassuringly at me, to let me know that this was no defect at all.

I was baffled! My mouth hung open as he continued to talk! What was this? Had I been set up somehow? Ken had kissed and told? I looked over to Tracy again in my confusion, but she just looked back at me and smiled. She dipped her head a moment as if in sympathy.

"One more test now, and I'll be glad to welcome you aboard! I need to know two things. The first is that from the moment we hire you, you'll have the good of the company in mind at all times, that management's needs will always dominate your personal feelings."

"Tracy certainly feels that way. She saw the need for someone like you years ago, when she first arrived. All this time she could have had a much easier time of it, especially since we've been understaffed, if we'd simply taken on Temps, hired whatever prostitutes and call girls or escorts we've needed. But she wanted you for her assistant and no one else, and she didn't want to jeopardize the slot reserved for you."

"It seems she's been training you for this job for the whole of your marriage, practically. Making a perfectly decent husband I must say, from my early reports here, into a highly skilled transgendered sex partner of men, women, or gay men. I hear that this past week you've managed to persuade yourself to remain a woman, that you now have a real woman's desires. That you've now had sex with men and love it. Well, I need to know that too for certain.

"So now, would you come here"—he indicated a space on the floor between his spread knees—"and show me this fabulous deep throat technique Tracy says is the equal of hers? I'll be the best judge of that!" He looked straight into my eyes, confident, dominating, self-assured, head cocked slightly back, and waited.

This was what Tracy and I had trained for together. But something wasn't right in this interview! Something in fact was all wrong! I couldn't think, so I went with the closest scenario at hand. I put on a sultry smile, said "Of course I will, if you think it's part of my job," dipped forward out of my chair. hiked up my skirt, and knelt before his crotch as if preparing to pray to some phallic god. My stockings seemed safe enough on the soft carpet. "Now?" I asked him, trying to sound as if a six course gourmet dinner awaited me behind his zipper?"

"Whenever you're ready," he said. So I reached for his fly with my now bright red, elongated, delicate, highly polished fingertips, and unzipped him. Immediately the largest cock I have ever seen rose through the space in his pants like a genie emerging from a bottle, then hovered huge over his crotch.

It looked familiar. It was familiar! My mouth and my ass immediately recognized every curve, every vein, and my ass began to quiver. There before me was "the Emperor!" In the flesh!

It was the Emperor all right, from the familiar pink and purple shading of its immense crown, past the pock marks and veins buttressing its towering shank, down to the huge hairy balls I could see still half-hidden inside his pants! I was shocked! I looked again at Tracy in amazement! Unperturbed, again all she did was smile at me encouragingly, but this time her face registered the special pleasure of a mother watching a child unwrap a Christmas present. Awed and a bit frightened now, I looked back up into Roger's face. He put his hand on my cheek.

"Yes dear, I know it's huge," he said. "Women often seem unsure of themselves when they first see it. And after all those training sessions with the facsimile, you must be feeling especially privileged now to be in the presence of the real thing. All the more reason for you to do what a woman should do when she meets a cock like this one face to face, or rather, head to head."

He leaned back and waited. I closed my eyes and leaned forward as if kneeling before that rubber dildo Tracy had strapped to the chair in our bedroom. I kissed the tip, and wet the whole prick down with well-accustomed skill, and then in one lunge I took it into my mouth and down into my throat, and bobbed my head.

Roger groaned.

I swallowed, and he groaned again. I swallowed yet again. It was just as Tracy had said, I was in charge, and he was helpless at that moment. I tantalized him a few times with small head movements, then settled into sliding it in and out, in and out, swallowing on the extreme edge of each down stroke, until I heard him deliver a deep, gutteral 'Yip" sound, and I felt it stiffen and then pump gout after gout of semen down into me somewhere.

I waited until his thrusting and pumping ceased, then raised my head. He was leaning far back on his chair, almost helpless, eyes tight shut, trying to catch his breath. As the tip slipped out of my face I took note that his semen was a lot sweeter than Gatorade, but not as creamy in my mouth as Ken's. I thought of Ken for a moment. Why did I feel sad now, thinking about Ken?

"Wonderful!" Roger said, still recovering his breath. "Tracy, he's even better than you are I think! More practice lately I suppose." He turned back toward me. "I'd love to fuck you too, but I'm afraid I can only cum one more time this afternoon after the weekend I've just enjoyed with Tracy, and I still need to test your potential for company loyalty. I already know anyhow from these reports that you're a good lay, devoted to your lovers' pleasure, and that your ass is now as well stretched as Tracy's. Remember the time you first fucked her in her ass, just before she began converting yours into a pussy? She told me you slid right in so fast she could barely feel you. Some men here do prefer Tracy's rear end to her vagina, I suppose that's why. I can't blame her for not letting you use my model cock on her—enough was already enough. I'll take her word that you have a usable pussy. Ken agrees enthusiastically enough! You might want to get a real one soon, anyhow, now that your penis is useless. Tracy thinks you'll need one to do your job well, and she should know."

"So only one other test. Please, just stay where you are between my legs, and begin sucking on me until I've recovered my erection, then we'll begin. It shouldn't be long."

It was a magnificent cock, and I tried to feel honored to be worshipping it, just as Tracy had urged. I did feel privileged, a little. But mainly uneasy. Was it jealousy? I didn't think so, there was something else. Annoyance? Male competitiveness? But I kissed the tip avidly, and licked and sucked it until it had reached its full fat dimensions again.

"Good! Now just stay where you are please. Tracy, would you come over here to help me complete this interview? Your husband is doing as well as you did when you first came to work for us. Of course you're a natural woman, and he's had to be trained first. "She" I suppose I should say now."

Tracy smiled once again at me, and came over and stood next to us. Then without a word she hiked up her skirt to her waist and tucked it in, then lifted and swung her leg wide over my head to stand on her high heels straddling Roger's lap, facing him, her naked ass not six inches from my upraised face. He looked up at her almost worshipfully and she looked down at him well-pleased, with superior satisfaction. She was doing what he wanted, and he was doing what she wanted. She waited a moment. His hands reached toward her breasts and caressed them gently, and he began to feel for their tips. Then slowly, slowly, Tracy lowered herself onto Carl's cock. I saw the pink tip of that monster cock, that royal head nearly the size of a teacup, topped by a pearl drop of pre-cum, touch, kiss, and enter my darling's pink inner lips, then disappear into the velvety softness within.

Her sweet pussy must be enormous, I thought. I hadn't been in it for a long time. Inadvertently I moaned aloud, on my knees before the two of them. But that was only the beginning. Majestically, Tracy lowered herself further, more and more, until her knees were fully flexed and the Emperor was entirely buried somewhere inside her. Then she began to rise. The edges of her vulva clung to the skin on its shank as she slowly withdrew, in a long, excruciating journey up from his lap. She clasped her arms around his head gently, with great tenderness, his face buried in her breasts, when his cock was almost altogether out of her, wet and glistening with her rich, slick secretions, only a few inches from my nose. I could smell the musk. Then she began to sink down again.

"This may be difficult for you to grasp," Roger said to me with a gasp as Tracy again reached the bottom of her descent, and gave her ass the faintest wiggle before rising up yet again. He waited. Long pauses and groans then interrupted the rest of his speech top me, but I had nothing to do but kneel and listen and watch, so I did.

He continued, "You many not know this, but your wife does this better than any other woman I know. That's why I promoted her, and why she's in such great demand among us. Why some days we've worn her out. (Aaahhh!) She was a little worried about this moment, you actually seeing her at work for the first time. (Gaaahhhd, Tracy!) But show her you love her despite what she's doing, won't you? Because she's doing it? (Oh! Oh!) Because she's doing it for the company? (Oh, you sweeeeeeeet thing!) Without rising from your knees?"

I understood him. Still dazed, I bent forward, and when Tracy was all the way down and had just given her rear that cute little wiggle to seat his cock firmly into her, I kissed her ass cheek. When she felt my lips she gave another wriggle, and Roger squealed again somewhere above us. I looked up at her. She looked back down at me graciously, her neck curved like a maternal swan, and smiled silently down at me, concentrating with her eyes half-closed on her own obviously glorious sensations with that cock crammed in her. I kissed her other cheek. I couldn't help it. She seemed to be a goddess! I worshipped her! I wanted her happy! I wanted to fling my arms around her waist and bury my face in her buttocks and just keep kissing her!

Faster and faster she rose and fell, and faster Roger rose to meet her on the down stroke, then hold himself in her as long as possible on the stroke, until they were pistoning in and out of each other too rapidly for me to see. Roger was overwhelmed, now going "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" mindlessly as he lunged up into her and she snuggled back down onto him. Suddenly his whole groin rose up, and the Emperor disappeared so far into her I thought his balls had gone into her also.

"AaaaaARGGHHHHHHH! arggggghhhh! aaaaaAAAARGHHGHGHGH!" Then in a voice that must have shaken the whole building, "Aaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

As her twat rose up I could see that the Emperor's was pulsing along its whole length, even high up inside her. Then as she sank down dense fluid squeezed out around the sides of Roger's thick cock and began leaking in gouts down Tracy's inner and outer lips, then down her leg. Then she threw her arms around his head and ears ferociously and issued her own rhythmic high pitched shrieks, so familiar to me from the early days of our courtship, when we fucked each other like rabbits. Her ululating died down. Then they both took a moment to recover their breaths, faces flushed, their chests heaving.

"Now, my dear, we've been neglecting you," Roger resumed to me when he could. "If you'll just lift your face to the ceiling? Tracy, if you'll step back just a pace, your husband wants to help make you dainty again, I'm sure."

"My girlfriend," Tracy said, still herself short of breath. She just sat there a moment, while Roger's prick plopped out of her. "I have no husband now. The husband I once had is now a willing cock sucker, and dickless, a pathetic cuckold. Would any real husband kneel to watch his wife fuck a man he's just sucked off? No, this woman here is my dearest girlfriend. I'm a lesbian at home nowadays, remember? It's in those reports on your desk. I told you when you promoted me that I close too many business deals with too many men all day long, and adjudicate too many disputes, and reward too many executives for exceptional achievement, and entertain too many clients ever to want to have sex with any man on my own time. Especially with a husband. I had to change him to tolerate him at all. Except for our training sessions, my pretty hubby hasn't had sex with me for months. But we are loving friends. She is my beloved girlfriend, happy to see you fucking me so thoroughly. We enjoy each other's pleasures."

Tracy then stood up off of Roger's softened cock and took a step backward until her crotch was directly over my face. Then she settled her soft, wet, salty pussy down onto my mouth. She braced her thighs on my shoulders and reached down to touch my tits and start to play with them, as she loved to do. They were hers, after all. She had made them. I reached into her vagina with my lips and tongue and started to slurp up her divine juices all mixed in with Roger's cum, swallowing as fast as I could as gobs of jism released themselves and fell dripping like thick syrup into my mouth. Waiting for more to drain out, I kissed her pussy lips over and over, and licked her clit when the cum stopped draining so profusely. Lord how I worshipped her! Meanwhile she played with my sweet titties until I felt something warm and sticky and delicious happen to me down in my pelvic region. So very nice.

Tracy continued speaking to Roger as if my mouth and tongue working away in her pussy were no more than a Kotex pad, worn withought further thought. "There! See? That's what she wants. My happiness. You see how she puts the company's good ahead of her own. Now I want to decide for myself exactly how we'll define her duties and her managerial grade, whether she'll be my executive assistant or merely my associate. She already has a full list of clients waiting for her services, and certainly she's persuaded you by now that she's well qualified for the lesser job."

I felt Tracy wriggle her pussy on my face the same way she'd wriggled on Roger's cock. I gave her lips one last kiss. Then she stepped off me, glanced at me this time with a perfunctory smile, and began to arrange her clothing.

"That's the deal, Tracy," Roger said. "I've already agreed to it. She's qualified now for fucking and sucking. If she stays in that grade she'll need to trade in that useless penis soon for another fuckable opening, so she can carry her full load. But I'm sure you can persuade her of that, and of course we'll pay the full costs. I'll leave it to you to determine whether she has real executive potential, and can actually do all of your job, not just the fucking and sucking. Set up a tough challenge for her."

He stood up and left the room, to clean himself up and to get my contract from his secretary I suppose. Still on my knees, I asked Tracy if we now had enough evidence for the harassment case, and if we should take this opportunity to steal the monitoring tape from over the door.

"What, honey?" She was still absorbed in her erotic afterglow, and maybe in what he'd just said. "Oh, the harassment? No, this was a trial run for a job he already meant to offer you, and everything he asked of you is in the printed job specs. He conducted himself properly I'm afraid. On the other hand, if you were to show a tape of today's interview to some sex discrimination commission, what kind of credibility would you have as a witness? The tapes show a transvestite with a shrunken penis who eagerly sucks the cock of a man who then fucks his wife while he kisses her ass as asked. You'd be laughed at. If you're a man, you're a cock sucking transvestite, darling, and I still love you. But you'd better just settle in as my girlfriend and forget all the rest, especially that you were once my husband. Let's go home, and we'll talk more, and then we'll decide what's best."

end five

 

Six

Later that evening when we came in from dinner the contract lay on the coffee table in front of us. We settled across the living room from each other in our housecoats, for once wearing light makeup or none at all. I glanced out the picture window and across the street. If Beth and her husband were watching, they'd see nothing out of the ordinary. Two women talking.

I then told Tracy that I didn't intend to sign. The contract made me a company whore like her, nothing more. And she hadn't once been honest with me the whole time we'd been married, not once. I couldn't trust her. I didn't see how I could work with her. I loved and worshipped her, now more than ever in some odd perverse way, but there was no reason for us to remain married. I said these harsh things to her in a calm voice, because I meant them.

Tracy's face fell, and her voice trembled as she began her reply. Suddenly all her work seemed to be for nothing, I realized. And having sacrificed her husband to her own desires and schemes and not confided in him, she'd now lose her dearest girlfriend too. Well, I thought, it's what she deserves. Good for her.

"Sweetheart," she began. "First, I'll be absolutely honest with you now. I want you, but I don't need you. You're right. Any 'whore' as you so tactfully put it could be hired for this job. And you're already a whore. You've proved it for months, certainly this afternoon with Roger. You can be tricked into fucking or sucking anyone or anything. It's only a matter of incentive, and you're so trusting you don't even know that real whores are shrewd businesswomen who always insist on payment up front in advance. To be really useful to me you'll need to prove you have greater managerial savvy. None of us know that yet. You've never had to manipulate other people the way I do, the way I suppose all women must. You just trust them, the way men do who think their authority is unquestioned."

"But that's what's at stake now. If you sign on, it'll be either as a shrewd executive or as a trusting whore."

She paused, then began again. "I did want desperately to tell you everything, but there was no way. Look how long it took for that male ego of yours to die, before you were willing to agree that looking like a woman, doing what women do, being a woman in the company of women makes you much happier. You know that now in your heart of hearts, don't you?"

She waited, and took my silence to mean I didn't disagree.

"This moment is what I wanted for you practically from the day we were married, darling. To share everything with me, and that means to share everything as a women. That's what true marriage is. I wanted all this for your sake, for our sake, not just for the sake of some job. Look what happened just today. We both had sex with the same terrific man, as women, and we're happy for each other because of it, not at all jealous. Our fidelity to each other is now far more spiritual than that old sense of "fidelity" demands, each person claiming exclusive rights to the other's skin. What we have here is real sharing and caring! I wanted you to have it all, everything I have."

This time she waited for me to disagree. I couldn't. It was true, in a way, from her point of view. From the beginning of our marriage Tracy had been plotting our mutual happiness as she saw it. She could see it only if I became her girlfriend, and also her kind of girl working for the same company. She knew I would not easily be persuaded. She was wonderfully devious, my Tracy, but certainly well-intentioned!

Tracy read my grudging admiration in my face, and took hope. "Now, she said. "if I'm a company whore, at least I'm now the head company whore at the head office of a very large corporation. And I want you to be with me in this. I want to share this too."

"But we're not 'whores'. That's such a harsh word. Think about it, darling. There are many ways to please people so they'll agree to do things you want them to do: buy, sell, cooperate, sacrifice, whatever you want. You can take them to a concert or a Broadway play, or to a ball game, or a great dinner. You can pay them, salaries or bonuses or bribes or praise. You can send their wives flowers on their birthdays. And you can invite them to share and be grateful for experiences they find intensely pleasurable. That's my department."

"When one of our salesmen is entertaining a client, we can help them feel close by giving them an opportunity to fuck the same woman, or to share blow jobs from her. To feel good the same way. The contracts those clients agree to afterward are always more lucrative for us. That's our job in Personnel Services, to cultivate other people's good will toward the company, and also to reward exceptional achievement and maintain high morale. If more negotiations are also required, that's what we do. If theater tickets are required, that's what we provide. If what's required is to blow or fuck or lick a key man or woman or a whole roomful of consultants, then we blow, fuck, or lick them. The same is true when top executives disagree over policy, or our own engineers can't make common cause over a major recommendation. We expedite their decisions. Ours is a skilled profession, like many others, and when we intervene, things do happen."

"That's why the work is so high paying. I was overworked because I've been adapting a much older piecework profession to an industrial corporate setting, and doing the work at the same time, and exploring its potential, and persuading top management of its value, and writing endless reports about it, all at once. You now know the techniques I used. I persuaded them the way you saw me persuading Roger of your value, the way I persuaded you earlier to explore your femininity unashamed. It takes time, persuading people one on one. It takes tact and strategy. If you sign on, you can do some of the work immediately, perhaps as only a woman can do it. But can you do more? We don't know yet, do we?.

"But now we need to know because I'm about to become the newly created Vice President of Personnel Services, charged to set up similar service units in every branch office across the country, and to set up all the appropriate training programs. Our work has a future. Soon I'll be traveling much of the time to lots of places, and when I'm elsewhere I would want you to do all of my work here, including the persuading and the calculating, if you're up to it."

I was suddenly frightened. I looked down at my newly bulging breasts, and then back up at her. I doubted I was woman enough!

"No, sweetheart," she said, "If you can't, you'll "whore" for me as you put it at a lower level, but I still won't leave you. I want you. It's taken me years to make you over into what I want, dearest girlfriend."

"My girlfriend, not my husband. You couldn't see it, darling, because you were behind us when Roger and I were fucking, and you couldn't see anything but my ass—you were so sweet, lover, kissing my cheeks that way, you made me feel so precious, so richly endowed, practically like a goddess being worshipped. You couldn't see or hear us, but while I was sliding up and down on Roger's pole and he was talking so pompously to you, he was also proposing marriage to me. He offered me a huge engagement ring for when you and I dissolve our own marriage. And I accepted him. Don't you see? You're now everything I want in a girlfriend, but Roger is everything I want in a man."

I blurted out in a kind of despair, "Tracy, what does Roger offer you that I couldn't?" I felt lost.

She just stared at me affectionately. "Sweetheart! Who says size doesn't matter? Undersized men and their disappointed women. What Roger has above all else is hot meat, the Emperor, a cock like a Renaissance bell tower visible for miles and chiming across the countryside every Sunday morning. You know that—which dildo of all we own would you most want to feel working its way up your ass? It's wonderful that you no longer feel jealous of Roger, that your last shred of competitive male pride is gone, that as a woman you'll be happy that I have first call on such a cock, and that you may be asked to cleanse it afterward sometimes. Mostly I suspect though that I'm woman enough for him, just as he's man enough for me, all the man I ever wanted. And now you're all the girlfriend I ever wanted."

"We can be so happy together, the three of us! We mean to set aside a guest room for you, but you won't ever really be a guest in our house, my darling. You'll be my first love and later my second in command I hope, ready to do whatever's necessary when I'm out of town travelling. Even anything with Roger."

She stopped speaking. We sat a long while in silence. Then I said, "If I took this job, Tracy, I'd need an assistant too. Maybe two. I'd never want to be as overworked as you were. I don't have your zest for the job."

Tracy just looked at me. She hadn't thought of that. "I suppose so, sweetheart. I needed help for years until I found you, or made you into what I needed to find. If you can find someone adaptable enough, I can clear you to hire such a person. Even two such people."

"I'll let you know," I said. And that was that.

When we went to bed, it was as equals. We were loving friends until early dawn. But much of it was just going through the motions. In the morning, we selected our undies together as always, but the fun was gone. Tracy told me that Roger would be coming home with her from now on, now that I knew all about them, until their new residence was built. I was welcome to use the guest room.

I went back to my old office to give notice, and I sent for Connie. When she arrived I was cleaning out desk drawers.

"What a pretty blouse," she said. "Did you have a lovely time all this time you've been out? I can see that something happened! You have a certain glow of...certainty about you that wasn't there before. And I see you've had a makeover, and that you've no more nervous concern whatever for that manhood you thought you'd preserved somewhere down under. You're all girl now, huh? What does Tracy think of you?"

"Tracy has left me," I replied. "We'll keep living together for the time being, but she's marrying her old boss, Roger. It turns out that you were right, she did want the best of both worlds. What she was doing with me was preparing me to replace her at work, and to be replaced at home by a really big prick. But she didn't want to take on new responsibilities without leaving behind someone well-trained in ...hospitable business practices. Not as a mere man, but as a woman like herself, her girlfriend."

"Which you now are"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Not altogether physically yet, but yes, I am."

"That's nice," said Connie. She started to get up. "Then I suppose that's it. I've already welcomed you to the club, and you must know you'll always be an honorary member of our Ladies' Room gossip group, welcome any time. So goodbye, honey. Enjoy your new life!"

"No, Connie, that's not it at all." I deliberately waited a moment, then began. "I want you to come work with us."

Connie sat down again, and looked level-eyed across at me. "Why?"

"For much more money. So every day you can do all the things you do best, run my office and take care of whatever problems may arise with other women employees and clients. So you and Tracy can see each other more often I suppose, if you wish. So I can see you occasionally, if you're willing."

Now Connie was surprised. "You never gave me a clue, honey. Not a clue."

"Until yesterday I was a married man and Tracy's exclusively for life. Now I'm a single woman, and pretty sure I'm a lesbian like you, not even bisexual like Tracy. I can do the things I need to do with men, though my heart's never really in it. I'm very much attracted to women. I still love Tracy, despite everything. And I'm attracted to you too, Connie. I was thinking last night while I was a being a woman with Tracy that you've been a woman with Tracy too, and my mind wandered, and I saw that you're a very attractive woman, so much like me, or like what I want to be, and I wondered what it would be like, being a woman with you."

Connie's voice softened. "Honey, I never wanted to go poaching Tracy's game. But I can see the rules have changed, and it's now every girl for herself. Certainly Tracy's been for herself all along. I am available. It happens I'm only on loan to my roommate, and she knows that."

"And you do make an attractive woman. I thought you'd make one when I first saw you. I told Tracy that. The day you two were married I stopped by your wedding reception to wish Tracy well. She confided that she was just fresh back from her job interview with Roger early that morning. She'd just accepted the most marvelous job in the world, she thought, hard work, but deeply satisfying, with a great future. She described it. But during the interview it seems Roger checked out her potential thoroughly, with a huge cock, and balls that produce cum in buckets. She was worried you'd notice when you began your honeymoon that her cunt was still stretched out and swollen and soaked."

"Well, I told her that sloppy seconds wasn't her problem. Her real problem was going to be afterward, how to keep you from feeling angry or jealous or cheated when you found out what your wife does, that she sleeps with a half-dozen or more men every day, and some women. That all of her holes and skills were available for corporate purposes, and that she enjoys her work enormously. I told her what I thought of your potential, and we agreed that feminizing you was the only sure way to secure her marriage. She said she'd begin your conversion right away, and prepare you to do her work, so later you could scarcely complain when you learned what she did. And that's what she did. Even now I notice you're not complaining that she's a salaried call girl about to marry someone else, only that she tricked you into becoming one too. Or nearly. But all that to one side, why should I want to work with you two now?"

I looked levelly back into her eyes, and answered, "Because it opens out all kinds of possibilities for all of us, for you, me, and even Tracy if she can find the time between servicing Roger's cock and setting up her branch office whorehouses. But most of all, because I think we might one day become very good friends, Connie. Maybe even loving friends."

Connie softened even more, and her voice was low as she continued to stare at me. "I think that could be very nice, honey," she said. "A girl needs friends. But what about this Roger? You'll still have certain...obligations to him and his big cock. And I don't believe in big cocks or in friends who want the best of both worlds. I may have to do with men from time to time, the same way you do, but in my heart I'm a one world woman, a woman's woman. Are you, now?"

"Yes," I said. "I think I am."

"Then what about Roger, and all those vice-presidents and corporate directors, and ace salesmen, when Tracy's away?"

"I've thought about that. There's a gay man in the office now, named Ken. A lovely man. An absolutely gorgeous man. Gentle, charming, with a profound understanding of women, and of what it's like for someone to become a woman. I know. I mean to ask him to work with us too, he's a specialist where we're not. Then I think I can show him that it's advantageous for a gay man to become ...more feminine. He'd gain enormously in his access to men, for one thing. Roger would love him I'll bet. For someone like Ken, someone with Roger's endowments could be quite an additional incentive. And if he became a complete woman he'd no longer be gay, he'd be straight, with a whole world full of men to choose from. So I don't think I'll need to think about Roger for too much longer. I have other plans for Roger. Moreover, Ken already knows what kind of work Tracy and I do, and he enjoys it, and he's very good at it. He seems to have free-lanced it with me last weekend. And he very nearly won me over."

Connie stood up. "Well, listen. I won't quit work here right now, but I will work for you as a part-time consultant paid by the assignment, if you're agreeable. And bring in other capable people as you need them. That's the way I like to do things like this. I value my independence."

We shook hands. Then we kissed. And then hugged each other and ruined each other's makeup. Then joked about it, and Connie left.

That evening when I got home there was a message on the telephone answering machine in Tracy's work area. Connie's voice.

She said, "Tracy, it worked! You set it up, but he arrived at a workable plan all by himself. I'm sure he'll tell you, but it's this. He'll work for you and I'll work for him doing piece work, and Ken will too I'm sure. When you're too busy, I'll do the women and Ken will do the men, and he'll get more staff and fill in only as necessary. He thinks only with women, though from what you've told me it's bound to be Ken too, and other gay men too when Ken gets too swish to be his lover."

"So he's passed your test, I think, and you can hire him on as an executive, not just use him for routine hands-on sex the way you first planned. He really is beginning to think like a woman. Now, if he wants, he can sit behind a desk doing his nails and fixing his face and planning all day long how to get other people's cocks and mouths and twats and assholes in and around each other, the way you do, and he'll never have to fuck anyone himself unless he wants to. And now he's no threat to your new marriage despite the way you say Roger dotes on that deep-throating he demonstrated."

"Oh, he wants to be my loving friend too, and I just might let him. He's woman enough for me now I think. We might even want to let him join our weekly get-togethers and try a threesome now and then. Of course if we do, I'd want double my fee, up front and in advance as usual. He'd never need to know. Given all those times we've made it together since you first married him, you know I'm worth it."

I rewound the tape, and fixed my lipstick, and waited for Tracy to get home with Roger. So it was true, where men trust, women scheme. These women had schemed, certainly.

Which may be why, while I prepared dinner for the three of us, I wondered what Roger's shore estate looks like. I considered how soon I could get him to enjoy wearing my peignoir at home while I was at the office sitting at his former desk, having Helene do my nails in that bright red shade I just love. Less time than it took Tracy to transform me, I was pretty sure. I began to imagine Roger joining us in an occasional foursome with Connie and Tracy and me, all four girls mixed and matched all together. I also began thinking how to help Tracy work out her travel schedule so if she's ever again tempted to hide secrets from me, her dearest girlfriend, I'll be able to tell her where to go.

 

END Girlfriends

© 1997 by Vickie Tern. Permission freely granted to archive this story, make it available, and copy it for personal use, but it is not for sale, no way, no how.

  

  

  

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