I would like to thank Anyport for his permission to write this sequel to his story, The Transformation, and use the characters he created. I would like to thank Tigger for allowing me to include a guest appearance by his character, "Aunt" Jane Thompson. I would especially like to thank Steve Zink for editing such a very long story for me.

This story was written to stand on its own. If you would like to read Anyport's story first; it's available both on Fictionmania and StorySite.

While there is some strong language in this story, there are no explicit sex scenes and all the characters are adults. However, if you are under eighteen or offended by transgendered material, don't read this story. This story may be posted on any free site.

 

I'm Baaack!

by Jezzi Belle Stewart
©2002 Turn Right Productions

 

Part 3

 

Chapter 13: The Eve Of Destruction Revisited

When Lou opened the door and saw Robbie, if she hadn't been wearing shoes, she probably would have jumped out of her socks. As it was, she stood stock still, looked her up and down, looked at Joan, who had a mile wide grin on her face, having just taken a pic, looked back at Robbie, and called out, "Ed, get your luscious bunns out here; you've got to see this!!"

Ed turned the corner into the vestibule, and stopped dead in her tracks. "OHMYGAWD! Is this...?"

Lou nodded.

Robbie said, "Surprise!" and gave them a twirl.

"How...?"

"When...?"

"Where...?"

"OHMYGAWD, Robbie?!"

"Robbie!?"

Joan stepped forward, and held out both hands palms forward. "Ladies, enough! It seems as though your protŽgŽe has anticipated and exceeded your expectations. Come, give her appropriate kisses and hugs." As they did, she took pictures. The photographic story of this evening should prove to make a very effective sales brochure, she thought, dollar signs once again dancing in her head.

As they were, by this time, in the heads of both Lou and Ed. Like Joan, even as they were hugging Robbie they were thinking of her sale, and how much her own actions had added to the price she would bring. It was like Rose times two.

Later, they were seated in the living room, drinks in hand. Joan had a little twinge of concerned premonition when she saw that Robbie was drinking Jack Daniels neat, but it quickly passed. Robbie had explained to them how he had gotten wise to what they were doing, loved it, and upon her friend Stephanie's and Joan's separate urgings, decided to surprise them.

With the end of Robbie's story, the three conspirators noticed that Robbie's speech was becoming a little slurred, and that she was slumping a little in her chair. She opened her purse and took out a hankie. She took a swipe at her forehead, missed, and the hand that held the hankie brushed the top of the back of the couch she was seated upon. She tried again, got it right, and seemed to straighten up a little.

Seeing that she seemed better, Ed urged her to describe her visit to Vaingirls, and to talk about the four girls themselves. She delivered Joyce's conciliatory message. Lou and Ed were a little dubious at first, but when Joan backed her up, they accepted it. Never realizing they, including Joan, were being played for suckers, they were led to believe that Robbie and the Vaingirls were the suckers.

During all this, Robbie once again slumped, this time further down on the couch. Finally, she gave a little moan, fell sideways so her head rested on the pillow at the end of the couch, and passed out.

Joan rushed over and examined her; pulling up her eyelids, she could see that her pupils had rolled up, only the whites were showing. She seemed a bit flushed, but her heart rate and breathing seemed regular. Joan concluded that it was probably just exhaustion, coupled with the liquor. While Robbie had her own room there, Lou and Ed decided to put her on the day bed in their office, because it was closer and they could check on her easier from time to time. She was, after all, a valuable commodity. Once they had laid her on the day bed, Joan gave her one last quick check, and then all three returned to the lounge. If they had stayed a minute more, they might have seen Robbie's eyes flutter as she began to awake much sooner than any of the three anticipated.

Chapter 14: Interlude: "Don't Call Me Barbie!"

All through her youth, Barbara Dahal had been subjected to the culture of feminine beauty. No even remotely masculine toys or playthings for her mother's girl, and only the frilliest and most feminine of outfits to wear. She had been entered in every beauty pageant her mother could afford, and she usually won; she REALLY did look like Barbie. When she entered school, it became apparent that she had brains as well as beauty, a fact that was lost on her mother but not, fortunately, on her father, a police officer with the Chicago Police department. It was he who pulled strings to get her into the gifted magnet schools as she grew, and who encouraged her love of learning. Barbara quickly learned that to most others, in the brains/beauty competition, brains lost, and she realized that if she didn't want to end up as a former Miss Somethingorother, grinning brainlessly on Hollywood Squares one day, she would have to be three times as good as the men around her at whatever she chose. Fortunately, she found that, as the saying went, that wasn't difficult. When she reached high school and came into the full flower of her beauty, she went through a phase where she tried to hide it. She quickly found that that was a losing battle; she was a hottie, no matter what.

Then she learned a valuable lesson: The more a man - or woman - underestimated her, the easier they were to deal with in whatever manner she chose; beauty could be a weapon. Her father, much to the disgust of her mother, had made sure that she was trained in conventional weaponry, not only in firearms usage, but in the martial arts as well, and she had several black belts. On her own, she had trained with a variety of other weapons and was an expert with bladed weapons. With beauty added in, Barbara rather fancied herself the American Lara Kroft.

When she turned eighteen, a week after high school graduation, she had packed up all her pageant ball gowns, all her tiaras and trophies, and taken them to Goodwill. From Goodwill, she had gone to the nearest Navy recruiter and joined up. A year later she was a Navy Seal, having completed training with the highest rating up to that time, male or female. (The first day of training, a 6'5", three hundred pound male, one of her classmates, sneeringly stated in a voice loud enough for her and all the other recruits to hear that they'd have to keep the pace slow so "Barbie won't break a nail". Barbara heard later that he ended up in the base hospital for the next month. Her commander, secretly pleased, covered for her and, as soon as he could, promoted her.) Eight years and an amazing number of covert operations later, she decided that she was getting a little too old for the Seals, and anything else the Navy had to offer she felt would seem too tame by comparison. It was time to move on.

It was a fairly easy step into the CIA. After a year of training, she went undercover. For the next four years, she popped up in various trouble spots all over Europe and Asia. With the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union, she felt that the CIA could do without her, and she retired. It was time to have some fun, so she returned to Chicago.

The first thing she did was mend fences with her mother by entering the Miss Chicago pageant, and, at thirty years of age, she won. It's probable that the "accidental" breaking of the host's left leg - he had patted her butt as she began her runway walk - was responsible for her not continuing further; the runner up took her place.

She debated joining the Chicago Police, but, surprisingly, her father urged her not to, telling her that she should be her own boss. Secretly, he was afraid of what havoc his daughter might raise on the still mostly misogynist male CPD. Barbara took his advice to heart, and set herself up as a private investigator.

In the course of an investigation involving a Chicago charitable organization, she uncovered undoubtable evidence that the charity's director, already under indictment, was actually guilty of skimming charity funds into his own Cayman Islands account. She passed the evidence on to the district attorney who, of course, had to pass it on the the man's lawyer, one G.A. Hall.

With the charity in question being one of her own personal causes, she was anxious to see justice done, and attended the accused's trial. She was somewhat perplexed by Mr. Hall's defense of his client. While brilliant on the surface, there were nuances which she felt the jury would view as detrimental to his client; nothing she could really put her finger on, just nuances. Sure enough, the jury found his client guilty. As Mr. Hall was leaving the courtroom, she approached him, introduced herself, and asked if she could buy him lunch. He agreed, if they could go to Billy Goat's for cheeseburgers. She had laughed. 'A man after my own heart,' she had thought, but also, 'there is something unusual about this man.'

As they seated themselves at Billy Goat's with their trays containing the famous cheeseburgers, chips, and "Pepsi, no Coke", she realized what it was that was so unusual. Mr. G.A. Hall was the first man she had met in a long time who had not once let his gaze linger on her breasts! Further, as they had ridden in a cab to Billy Goat's, he had complimented her on her outfit; not just the usual male, "You look really nice," but, "Very nice suit; Ann Taylor, right? (And he was!) That scarf and those shoes really add to the outfit, too." And then he had asked her where she bought the shoes! As they started to eat, she wondered if he would ask her where she had her hair done.

At first she thought maybe he was gay, but as they talked, she began to get a different idea. She had disclosed that it was she who had gathered the evidence that had damned his client. He admitted that he had seriously considered just dropping his client when he had first seen that evidence, but that it had occurred to him that a new lawyer and all that that entailed legally might very well result in his client's acquittal. He explained that to him, seeing justice done was his objective, not the acquittal of his client, and that he told his clients that up front. If the two were one and the same, fine; if not, well, she had just seen "if not...". Had he manipulated the jury? Yes, he had, and what did she think about that? She approved; he was her kind of guy!

But what kind of guy wore mascara? She was CIA trained to be an observer; as she had looked him over, her subconscious was sorting and evaluating everything about his appearance, and had noticed traces of what was certainly mascara on his eyelashes, as well as little patches of skin discoloration which, in light of the mascara, were probably makeup. She looked at his hands; while not overtly feminine, she noticed that his nails were a bit longer than most men's, and much better kept, as was his hair, also. As the lunch was coming to a close, she decided to go for broke. Leaning in close to him, in a voice she believed only he could hear, she said, "You know G.A., you really should use remover on your eyes; that brand of mascara doesn't come off completely with just soap and water."

Instead of reacting with indignation or embarrassment, his face had lit up with a truly lovely smile - a girl's smile, she thought. "Damn, you're good! I tell you what, why don't you join my wife, my sister, and me for dinner tonight at Trader Vic's, our treat. We've been talking mostly about my work, and I really would like to know more about you and your work. I think you'll find a number of questions you must have will be answered, also." As much as the curiosity, the fact that a PI's salary didn't allow for eating at upscale places like Trader Vic's had convinced her to agree. They climbed the stairs from Billy Goat's to North Michigan Ave., and parted, she with the prospect of going home and digging through her closet for something suitable to wear to Trader Vic's.

As she got out of the cab that evening, she had to pay particular attention to making sure the cab driver, who HAD stared intently at her chest as she had entered the cab, didn't get a free T & A show. She had opted for a LBD, sexy as only a "That Doll" look alike could be sexy. Lots of leg, lots of cleavage. She wanted to see if he would be concerned about the designer of this outfit or about...other things.

As she stood scanning the tables inside Trader Vic's, she was approached by a cute redheaded woman in an electric blue gown. "Are you Ms. Dahal? Barbara?" She nodded. "We're all over here." As she led Barbara toward a table in the back, she introduced herself. "I'm Karen Hall, G.A.'s wife. G.A. said to tell you that something came up, and he couldn't make it tonight, but he sent a replacement and wanted you to have a nice meal anyway." By that time, they had reached the table and the two women seated at it, one blonde, the other raven haired. Karen did the introductions: "This is my husband's sister, Joyce Hall, she runs Vaingirls over on Halsted Street." She indicated the raven haired woman. "And this is my very best girlfriend, Georgieann Hall." She indicated the blonde.

Joyce was beautiful, a young Elizabeth Taylor, Barbara had thought, same violet eyes. 'And she knows it!' noting that her gown was a matching violet. But the blonde: Stunning! She was dressed in white, but the gown's fabric was clingy and glittery, causing the woman to look anything but virginal - almost a Barbie herself, she noted ruefully, letting herself think the hated name. And there was something about her. As she and Karen were seated by the waiter, she began to put two and two together. Turning to Joyce, she asked, "Vaingirls; what a curious name. What exactly is Vaingirls, Miss Hall?"

Joyce had laughed, and turned to Georgieann. "She's good. I think she's on the trail, SISTER, dear." She turned to Barbara. "Bluntly?" Barbara had nodded. "We turn boys into various degrees of girls."

Barbara turned to Georgieann. "Well, MISTER Hall, you certainly are full of surprises! I expected something like this, but I never expected you to look so absolutely drop dead gorgeous. You have an aura of femininity that, before tonight, I would have said was impossible to fake."

"That's because MISTER Hall isn't here," laughed Georgieann. "We agreed - Joyce can tell you the story; it's quite a tale - that when I'm out, he's in, in the virtual rec room in our mind, that is. I imagine that right now he and his masculinity are lounging in front of the virtual big screen TV with a virtual cold beer in one hand and the virtual remote control in the other, surfing through the virtual sports channels. Oh," she added as Barbara started to interrupt, "he's aware of what's going on, and we share skills and knowledge. He can give me a good shot of testosterone in an emergency, but mostly he stays in the background and enjoys the ride. I do the same when he's out; I thoroughly enjoyed his lunch with you this afternoon, for example, but I'll wager that no one other than yourself would have ever have picked up on those minuscule remnants of me or thought him in any way effeminate."

"True, MISS Hall..."

"Call me Georgieann."

"And call me Joyce."

"And me Karen."

"...Okay, Georgieann, Joyce, and Karen, you can call me Barb or Barbara, anything but..."

"BARBIE!" all four chorused, in unison.

Barbara put her head in her hands and groaned.

The evening had progressed, and she had found out the whole G.A./Georgieann story. The four women - and G.A., in absentia - had become fast friends. Later, she and G.A. sort of drifted into an unofficial partnership, working together on several cases. She socialized regularly with the trio, one of whom was about half the time G.A. and the other half Georgieann. Thus, she was not really surprised when Joyce called her and told her of her suspicions about Ed and Lou.

'Which,' thought Barbara, as she, Steve, and G.A. stood just outside the door to Lou and Ed's Condo, 'Is why I'm here tonight. Time to get the bad guys!'

Chapter 15: She's Baaaack!

Down on the street, in the back of Karen's black Ford van - a van indistinguishable from thousands of other vans like it, which is why it had been borrowed for tonight - a previously red light on the control panel in front of Joyce changed from red to green. She flipped some switches, and a tape recorder began to run. "Show time!" she said. "Robbie's planted and activated the mic." Rose, seated kitty-corner from Joyce and facing the back of the van, turned and gave her a thumbs up; then her fingers began to dance over a computer console.

Up in the apartment, two things were happening:

1) As they returned to their living room, Lou and Ed were sky high and in a gloating mood. They couldn't believe their good fortune. Joan decided to go home and leave them to it. She'd had a busy week and needed some sleep, and now she knew she'd have sweet dreams. 'Counting dollars instead of sheep!' she thought, and smiled. She promised to stop at the 24 hour Osco and get the evenings pics developed. Once she was gone, Lou and Ed refilled their glasses, relaxed into their recliners, and toasted each other; Ed lit a cigarette. They began to talk about how they would sell Robbie, to whom, and how much money they expected to make from the sale - totally unaware of the tiny, perfectly working microphone Robbie had planted on the back of the couch.

2) Robbie couldn't believe her good fortune; their best case scenario had come true, and she was alone with Lou and Ed's computer. The plan had been to give Lou and Ed enough rope to hang themselves, and record it all. The computer would be a bonus; now, if it was only connected to Transformation System's mainframe. Robbie got up and turned it on; it was! Quickly, she followed the instructions Rose had made her memorize for bypassing Lou and Ed's security, and connecting the mainframe to Rose's computer down in the van. (Since Ross had been the one to install Transformation Systems' security in the first place, this wasn't difficult.)

They expected Robbie, with "his" Marine training, to be able to take care of herself, and G.A. represented the "easy" way of handling the situation. He had a search warrant. When Joyce had asked him how he got it, he had just told her that she didn't want to know. But it was perfectly legal. The arrest warrant in Barbara's pocket wasn't, but Lou and Ed wouldn't know that until it was too late. These would be used if Lou and Ed decided to come quietly; Barbara rather hoped they wouldn't.

Half an hour later, down in the van, Rose tapped Joyce on the shoulder, and she turned. "Okay. Transformation Systems' mainframe, and some extra goodies those two had hidden elsewhere, are all downloaded."

Joyce's cell phone rang. She picked it up, placed it to her ear, listened, and then turned it off. "That was Jess. They've got it all on Vaingirls' computer, and Beth and Liz are making hard copies now. Upstairs, they're rambling, repeating themselves. I think they're three quarters snockered. Let me call G.A. and get a legal opinion as to whether we have enough." She punched a number into her cell phone, and again put it to her ear. "Hey, Bro, you been monitoring all this? Have we got all we need?" She turned back to Rose. "He says okay."

Rose smiled, 'About damn time!' "Let's go get 'em, sis!"

Joyce told G.A. they were coming up, and set the recorder to automatic record, but on a new tape. If things got physical or not strictly legal, she didn't want it on their "legal" tape. Rose was already climbing out of the van, and Joyce followed her. She had seen the feral and predatory smile on Rose's face and shuddered, glad she wasn't in Lou and Ed's place.

When all four were together, three faces turned to Rose; this was her show. The three were dressed identically in nondescript jeans and sweatshirts, chosen for their loose fit allowing freedom of action, but Rose, Rose was different. Rose looked like the dominatrix from Hell. She was in black leather from feet to neck, but black leather for action, not show: boots with low block heels instead of stilettos, slacks instead of short skirt and fishnets, a T instead of a bustiere. Her nails were blood red, but action length, her hair in a severe French twist. She was reality, not fantasy. She gave a nod to Barbara, who extracted a lock pick from her pocket, knelt, and went to work. After about thirty seconds, there was a click and they knew the door was unlocked.

"Okay," said G.A., "let's see if the easy way works." He knocked on the door.

The door hinged on his left, and opened inward. Joyce stood on his right against the wall hidden from view; she had Barbara's Webley-Vickers in her hand. Having been raised as a boy by her father, like her brothers she had been taught by him to shoot a handgun. She experienced a rare moment of gratitude toward the man. Rose stood to the left of the door, also hidden from view. Barbara was behind G.A.. She would appear unarmed to Lou or Ed; appearances would, if necessary, be discovered to be quite deceiving.

Inside the apartment, Lou and Ed heard the knock, and Lou waved at Ed, who was closest to the entrance way. "Who the hell would be knocking on our door at 10:30 at night?" complained Ed.

"Maybe it's Joan. Maybe she forgot something." Lou continued waving Ed toward the entrance way. "Go let her in." Both women were MORE than three quarters tipsy.

Ed walked to the door and focused on the peephole. Since G.A. still had his ear speaker in, and was still receiving the broadcast from the mini-mic that Robbie had planted, he had quickly motioned Barbara to get in front of him to see if they could bluff their way in. Thus, what Ed saw in her inebriated condition was a rather blurry female shape that she took to be Joan. She opened the door. "Hi Jo-"

Barbara stepped aside, and G.A. entered the apartment. "Ms. Edwina Porter? I-"

Ed turned quickly, and moved toward the living room. "Lou, it's a guy! Watch out!"

'All Right!' thought Barbara, as she swiftly moved around G.A., who prudently moved to get out of her way. She pirouetted and kicked Ed's feet out from under her, then did a leap over her as she collapsed to the ground. When she looked up, Ed found she was looking straight down the barrel of the Webley-Vickers. "Hello, Edwina, nice to see you again," said Joyce, with a wicked grin on her face.

Landing on the other side of Ed, Barbara spun on her left foot around the corner of the entrance way and into the living room, drawing her throwing knife as she did so. Lou was rising from a crouch, pulling a gun from under the sofa cushions, and swinging its barrel toward her. Barbara threw the knife, and it pierced Lou's wrist, causing her to drop the gun to the floor without firing it.

At the same time, Robbie, having stripped for action, dove out of the den doorway behind her in just her bra, panties, garter belt, and hose, did a shoulder roll, and kicked Lou's legs out from under her. Lou was left with the full weight of her torso hanging from her arm, her wrist impaled and stuck to the cabinet of the entertainment center by Barbara's knife.

The knife was a special one, picked just for this possibility. It was more like an ice pick than a cutting knife, so it just held Lou there, and there was very little blood. Sometimes, when the mood struck her, Barbara COULD see the humor in her name. The handle of the knife was pink, and had the famous doll's name and picture on it. It was NOT an official Mattel accessory.

Lou only had time for the barest beginning of a scream, because Robbie finished her roll by grabbing a doily off the coffee table and stuffing it in her mouth.

A second later, Barbara reached Lou, pulled the knife out of the wall, leaving her wrist impaled, and grabbed her right shoulder. Robbie grabbed her left shoulder, and the two hoisted her into a sitting position on the couch. Barbara gave Robbie the once over: "Well, don't you look adorable, Little Miss Easy."

"Hey, I saved your bacon, Bar...uh, blondie!" ('Discretion is the better part of valor,' she thought, as she changed the name she would use.) The two women stood over Lou, who was in shock, grinned, then high-fived each other, Navy and Marines of one mind, for once.

That's how Joyce and G.A. found them when they entered the living room. Joyce entered first, pushing Ed ahead of her. She had secured Ed's hands behind her with the arms of her own sweatshirt so that Ed was in her skirt and just her lacy pink bra. Joyce held the gun to Ed's temple. When they were close enough to the couch, they pushed Ed down beside Lou. Then they did a double take at Robbie. At the same time, Joyce and G.A. came out with, "Well, don't you look..."

"DON'T EVEN START!" said Robbie menacingly, but then spoiled it by giggling. "I wonder what my old Marine sergeant would say about this combat gear?"

All four cracked up, while Ed glared and Lou just made little mewing noises while cradling her wrist, the knife still in it. She hadn't even attempted to remove the makeshift gag. Finally, Robbie and Barbara, the ones with combat first aid training, knelt and looked at her wrist. "Clean wound," commented Robbie. "No tendons or major blood vessels cut. Damn, lady, you're good!"

"Occasionally, something our government does turns out well," laughed Barbara; "I'm it." She pulled the knife out, sprayed it with antiseptic from her kit, shoved it back through neatly without additional cutting, and pulled it out again, all before Lou could even respond. Then she field dressed it. "We'll fix it up nicer when we get you two to where we're going," she told Ed, who seemed the only one capable of coherent thought.

Finally, Ed burst out, "Robbie, what is this? Why are you doing this? Why have you brought HER - she spat at Joyce - over here? Who are these people? Why? We're your friends..."

Robbie interrupted. "Oh, can it, Ed! I know all about your little scheme to sell me, and, frankly, I'm really pissed!" She didn't realize it, but she had slipped into Robert's voice; testosterone time! She yanked Ed to her feet, spun her around and untied her so she could fight back if she chose, and began pushing her toward the entrance way.

"Someone oughta slug you! (push) Yeah, someone oughta slug you! (push - 'McClintock' was one of Robert's favorite movies.) But I'm not gonna do it! (push) No, I'm not gonna do it!" He - she was definitely Robert now - cocked his arm, but found it held. He was moved aside as if he were a feather.

"No. You're not going to do it." The black leather clad figure looked Ed right in the eye. "I am!" With every ounce of strength she possessed, backed by almost four years of anticipating this moment, Rose threw her punch. Ed's jaw snapped up and her neck snapped back. She was literally lifted off the floor, and she crashed back onto the couch into almost the exact same position she had been in when Robbie had yanked her up.

"Christ, Rose, you could have killed her!" said Joyce, as she knelt to examine Ed. Remarkably, Ed was both conscious and apparently not seriously hurt.

"Nah," said Rose, dusting her hands as she came up before the two women. They looked at her wide eyed, recognition dawning. "I know how to pull my punches. Hello, Louise." She stood before them, straight and tall, a vision in black leather from their worst nightmares. "Hello, Edwina." And then Rose smiled a smile to strike terror into their hearts. In her best Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation, she said, "I'm Baaack!"

G.A., who hadn't broken a sweat, stepped smoothly to Rose's side. He looked at her; "may I?" She nodded. "Ladies," he nodded to Ed and Louise, "here's the deal. I have here a search warrant and an arrest warrant." He set his briefcase on the coffee table, snapped it open, and extracted the two documents. He showed them to Ed - Lou was still pretty much out of things - but she made no move to take them. He replaced them in the briefcase. "We have a recording of everything you've said here for the past half hour, plus Robbie broke your computer security codes, so Transformation Systems has no secrets from us. You are looking at a long, long, vacation in scenic Joliet, Illinois, my dears."

Ed and Lou, who was finally coming out of her haze, looked horror stricken. "However, my employer is willing to offer you an alternative proposal that would allow you to avoid incarceration, and even still live in the type of environment you have become used to. You will not be dealt with physically, mentally, or financially beyond what is stated in the papers I will present for your signatures. I suggest you read them, but you need to decide. Right here, right now. You have five minutes."

Ed looked at Lou. Lou looked at Ed, and nodded. Ed said, "No jail." Lou nodded. As teenagers, both girls had watched "Scared Straight" on TV and had believed it; prison life was definitely not for them.

G.A. pulled two sets of documents from his briefcase. He noticed some large books on the coffee table, and indicated that each woman should take one. When they had, he handed each a set of the documents. Pulling two pens from his shirt pocket, he gave one to each. "There are three documents; sign all three by the "X", then trade and sign all three by the "XX" as witnesses to each other's signatures. Miss Hall is a notary public, and will notarize them. The five minutes begin now." He turned to Barbara. "Miss Dahal, will you assist Ms. Edwards if she needs it? We want her signature to appear normal."

Barbara moved to offer help to Lou, but Lou was able to sign without it. Both women exchanged papers, and signed again. As G.A. had expected, neither made any attempt to read what they were signing. They looked up to see Rose and Robbie with identical satisfied but predatory smiles on their faces, and wondered if they hadn't just made the biggest mistakes of their lives.

They had.

G.A. took two small cases out of his briefcase - the briefcase that Lou and Ed were beginning to view as a veritable cornucopia of surprises, most of them likely to be unpleasant. "These are special contact lenses," he explained. He handed the cases to Barbara. "When Miss Dahal inserts them, you will be temporarily blind, but will appear to the world as if you weren't. So much less noticeable than a blindfold. You will let her insert them."

Barbara knelt in front of Lou. Washing each lens in her palm with lens fluid, she then inserted them. She moved, and did the same for Ed. Both ladies seemed in shock; neither made a protest of any kind.

Now they were almost done. Robbie looked around the room for Ed's pack of cigarettes, but noticed there was a cigarette, amazingly, still burning undisturbed in the ashtray on the end table by where Ed had been sitting. She walked over to it and with her fingernail, bumped it just a little; a few seconds later, it fell from the ashtray onto the table and from there rolled onto the floor, it's burning end touching the copy of the Tribune lying there. Barbara had pulled Lou to her feet, and Rose had done the same for Ed. They guided them into the entrance way and out the door held open by G.A., who had gathered their purses.

Chapter 16: Friends and Lovers

Robbie remained behind. She waited till the paper smoldered and then finally caught fire, then she went back into the den and put on her dress. She mussed her hair and smudged her makeup as if she had been sleeping. She looked back into the living room, and seeing that the fire was spreading from the paper to the edges of Ed's chair, she reached in her purse, pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. "Show time!" was all she said. Ending that call, she dialed 911.

About two blocks away, Steve put down his cell phone and started his car, a 1995 red Mazda Miata; he had bought it just three days ago, thinking it was perfect for them both, Steve and Stephanie. He drove toward Lou and Ed's building, pulled up about two buildings away, and waited. Robbie would call again if he was needed. About five minutes later he heard the sirens, and in another couple of minutes watched as a fire truck rolled up in front of the building and the firemen hurried in.

It had been about twenty minutes since the call to 911, and the smoke was getting heavy. Robbie was coughing and wheezing, and it was no act. She was just about to call Steve again when she heard knocking on the door; she collapsed to the floor instead. The knocking turned to hammering, and the door burst open. Three firemen entered; one grabbed Robbie and helped her stand. "Any others?" he asked. When she shook her head no, he clapped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and half walked, half carried her out of the apartment while the other two moved to double check and then put out the fire.

As the fireman brought Robbie out of the building, Steve came rushing up. When he saw the oxygen mask, the plan went out the window. "Robbie! Robbie! Are you all right?" Realizing she couldn't answer with the mask over her mouth, he turned to the fireman. "Will she be okay?"

By this time, they were to the curb and the fireman helped Robbie sit down on the bus stop bench there. Ironically, the ad on the back of the bench was for a firm that sold and installed fireplaces. He knelt, and while Steve hovered over his shoulder, he removed the mask. Robbie gave a few quaking coughs, and then her breathing gradually dropped to normal. "I think she should be okay," he said to Steve. "Her breathing seems to be normal, and her coughing stopped pretty quickly in this smoke free air." He looked back to Robbie. "How's your throat, Miss?"

"A little sore," Robbie answered in a slightly raspy voice, "but I believe I'll be okay, Officer...?"

"Clemmens, ma'am, Sam Clemmens, but my friends call me Mark, for obvious reasons." He smiled. "I'd feel better if you'd let us take you over to Cook County General, and let the ER people have a looksee."

Robbie gave him her most dazzling smile. "Thank you, Off...er, Mark, but my personal physician, Dr. Adkins, lives fairly close to here, and I can contact her and have her check me out."

"I'll call her right now," said Steve, getting out his cell phone and beginning to dial. When Joan answered, he moved off aways and explained to her what had happened, and that there was no sign of Lou or Ed. He returned to where Mark was having Robbie fill out the ubiquitous paperwork that always went with things like this. "Honey, Dr. Adkins says I'm to take you right to her office, and she'll meet us there." He turned to Mark. "Is that all right?"

"I believe so," said Mark, not taking his eyes off Robbie; they kept straying to her cleavage, and then he would snap them back to her face while his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. "Robbie has signed the release forms. She's given us Ms. Edwards' and Ms. Porter's cell phone numbers, and we'll try to reach them. I see my mates coming out now, so the fire must be out and the apartment secured. If you reach the ladies before we do, please have them contact us." He unzipped a pocket of his fire suit and pulled out a business card. "It's got my personal number on it, too," he said shyly, handing it to Robbie.

She took the card and, much to Mark's chagrin, immediately handed it to Steve, who put it in his shirt pocket. "I certainly will, Mark, and thank you so much for saving my life." She stood up, and on to her tip toes, he was easily 6'5", and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He blushed a fire engine red. 'Well, that's certainly appropriate,' she thought.

Just as she took Steve's offered arm and started to turn away, one of the other firemen came up to her with her purse; it was a bit smudged and smelled of smoke, but otherwise was intact. She thanked the fireman, and asked if there was any clue as to what happened to Lou and Ed. The fireman said that they had only found the one purse, hers, so they didn't see anything odd, and expected that Ms. Edwards and Ms. Porter would show up shortly.

Robbie and Steve crossed the street to Steve's car, and Steve opened the right door for Robbie; as she moved to seat herself, she noticed Mark watching her. She waved to him, and deliberately sat so as to expose her stocking tops as she eased into the car. "Good-bye, and thanks again, Markie!" she called. Even from across the street, they could see him blush.

They both held control for a block, but then Steve pulled the Miata over to the curb, put the gear shift in neutral, applied the parking brake, and they both collapsed against each other laughing so hard they cried.

"You little flirt!" accused Steve, between laughs. "I do believe you've made another conquest!"

"Why, what ever do you mean...Stevie!" At "Stevie", Robbie's pretended indignation broke down, and she laughed even harder. Finally getting her breath, she confessed, "Okay, the 'Markie' was a bit over the top, I admit, but I was just trying to make the poor guy feel good. After all, as far as he knows, he really did save my life, or at least saved me from being badly burned. And what's this about 'another conquest', sir?"

Steve turned serious. "Well, you've conquered me, Robbie. Do you know that, unlike the others, I've never met or even seen Robert? I know he existed, and intellectually I know he is...was...you, but I don't see any trace of him. I don't know whether you are planning to become as much a woman as you can be or not, but I know I don't think of you as a man in a dress, or even as an accomplished crossdresser. I'm not gay; when I look at you, I see and think of a beautiful woman. A woman that I found just a short time ago, when she was in a burning apartment, that I cared deeply for."

As Robbie listened to Steve, she too became serious, and when he was finished, she took his hand. "Oh, Steve, I think I'm beginning to fall for you, too. I'll be honest with you. I still have my male parts, and they are still functional; Lou and Ed started me on hormones, but they haven't kicked in to any great extent yet. I really hadn't thought of making womanhood a permanent choice, I was just enjoying being a T-girl, till I turned around the other day expecting Stephanie, and there YOU were. Now SRS is looking more and more like an attractive option - now that I have a man to be a woman for. AND, I get a great girlfriend in the bargain...you are planning on becoming Stephanie every once in awhile, aren't you?"

Steve pulled Robbie to him and kissed her; their tongues met and caressed each other. The moment stretched. It was Steve who pulled away first. "I think," he said, smiling, "that if we try anything else in Red here," he patted the dash, "I'll be putting some chiropractor into a Mercedes."

Then the smile left his face. "Seriously, if you decide to be a total woman, it should be because you want it for yourself, not for anyone else; I'll respect your decision, either way. And yes, Stephanie will be here when you want or need her to be, and maybe even when just I want her to be."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, "After I finished the Vaingirls program, I never expected to become Stephanie again. Not that I regretted the experience; hell, I put my own son through it and now, as you know, "she" has informed me she wants to be "she" permanently - and I'm happy for her! Joyce and the program probably saved me from really messing up my life, and it was really kinda fun toward the end. I would, and, in fact, am - you know this could become a really dangerous game we're playing don't you? - putting my life on the line for Joyce. I consider her my "Aunt" Joyce, even though she's considerably younger than me.

"However, I considered my time as Stephanie a learning experience, and I had learned what I needed. I never dressed again till just before I met you, and then only because Joyce convinced me that I was the best person for the job of reaching you and convincing you to meet with and really listen to Rose.

"I surprised myself, though, by finding I liked being Stephanie just for the heck of it - a fact which apparently convinced you to trust me enough to listen to Rose. I don't want to be Stephie all the time, probably not even most of the time; I like being Steve too much, and I think you like Steve too much to want Stephie all the time. BUT," he switched to Stephanie's voice, "girlfriend, I certainly will be around to go shoe shopping with and dish the dirt with occasionally! Speaking of shoes, you know there's a sale at..."

Robbie smacked HER and got HIM back. "Let's go, dear. Dr. Evil is waiting for us. This plan really is coming together!"

-----------------------------------------------------------

Joan put down the phone. A fire at Lou and Ed's place? Probable, Ed smoked like a fiend. As she put on her coat and picked up her purse, though, she wondered about the absence of Lou and Ed. During the drive to her office, she speculated on what could have caused them to leave the apartment, especially with Robbie, a very valuable commodity, passed out and perhaps unwell, in the office. She knew they had been gloriously high when she left, and she supposed that that could have degenerated into drunkenness quite easily. She didn't suppose she would find out anything from Robbie, but would ask anyway. She WAS curious about this Steve friend of Robbie's who had called her, and whether he might present a problem to their plans for Robbie.

By the time she had entered her office and hung up her coat, Robbie was knocking on the door. She moved quickly, and swept Robbie into a hug. It was not a spontaneous gesture of empathy, but a calculated move designed to ensure Robbie's loyalty to her - particularly if something had happened to Lou and Ed. She pushed Robbie to arms length and looked her up and down. "Come over here and sit on the table, honey. How do you feel?"

Robbie sat on the exam table. A little stocking top was exposed. Joan noticed. 'She knows better,' she thought. 'I imagine that was done for the benefit of the gentleman.' She glanced at Steve as she pulled on her rubber gloves, and grabbed a sterilized tongue depressor. He was staring at Robbie's legs. 'Thought so! Hmmmmm.' Meanwhile, Robbie was answering her initial question.

"Oh, Joan, thank you so much for agreeing to see me this late. I really didn't want to go to Cook County General. And I'm worried about Lou and Ed; why would they leave with me possibly sick and out cold, and where would they go? I thought you might know something." Robbie paused as Joan held up a hand and indicated she should open her mouth. The tongue depressor was inserted, and she used a flashlight to look down Robbie's throat. As soon as the depressor was withdrawn, Robbie continued, "Their apartment is a total mess! Joan, they are really going to have a hissy when they get back. I tried to do something to put it out, but by the time the smoke woke me, it was too late. I was coughing so badly I collapsed, and that's when the firemen broke down the doors and Mark got me out."

'Mark?'

"Another fireman told me they only found my purse, so I think Lou and Ed must have left to get something from the store, or something, but their cell phones are off."

Joan smiled a genuine smile. One couldn't help liking Robbie, she thought. Sooooo much better as Robbie than Robert; she would miss her after the sale. Again there was a momentary feeling of dejavu; she had felt the same about Rose. "Well, girl, you're certainly talking up a storm. I think that aside from a slight raspiness in your voice that should clear up in a few hours, and the fact that you're going to have to destroy that outfit - everything reeks of smoke to the extent I don't think it'll wash out - you seem okay." She beckoned to Steve, and he moved over to stand beside her looking at Robbie. "Haven't you forgotten something, dear? From the lack of uniform, I take it this isn't "Mark". Is this the gentleman who called me?"

Robbie blushed. "OH, I'm sorry. Joan, this is Steve, my friend Stephanie's twin brother. You remember me telling you about Stephie. It was actually her I was trying to call tonight, but Steve had borrowed her cell phone." That was the story The Group had agreed on. She turned her head. "Steve, this is my temporary boss, Dr. Adkins."

"Joan."

Steve held out his hand. "How do you do, Joan, Steph told me about Robbie working for you this week; she knows I'm interested in everything about Robbie." He smiled; Robbie smiled. "I guess I got to indulge my knightly fantasy of rescuing a damsel in distress tonight," Steve continued.

Robbie leaned forward, put her arms up around Steve's neck, and pulled herself up so her butt slid off the examining table and her feet hit the floor; she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Thank you, Sir Knight," she murmured, as she broke from the kiss.

"Get a room, you two!" Joan laughed. "Robbie, you're fine. Come home with me and get a good night's sleep. You, too, Steve. Get a good night's sleep, I mean. At your place!" she said pointedly. "Robbie, you can sleep in, and come to the office at noon. I'll make inquiries about Lou and Ed and let you know. I probably will know something by then. It's probably something quite innocent." She made shooing motions with her hands at Steve.

"You'll be okay?" he asked. Joan guessed that he probably had planned on taking Robbie home with him. That didn't fit her plans; virgins brought higher prices. She didn't know whether Robert had been a virgin, but she was pretty sure Robbie still was, where it counted.

Robbie kissed Steve again, this time chastely on the cheek, and told him to run along, she'd be fine. After he left, she and Joan locked up, and drove to Joan's condo. Joan showed Robbie to the guest room, where Robbie finally let exhaustion overcome her and collapsed on the bed. Joan managed to get her dress, shoes, and jewelry off, tossed a blanket over her, and let her sleep in her lingerie. Being Joan, she checked Robbie's purse on her way out of the room out of force of habit, and found nothing unusual for a pretty young girl to have. If she'd been suspicious and consciously looking, she might have found one of her throwing knives in it's hidden compartment at the bottom.

She was going to fix herself a double Jack, then decided against it. She went directly to her bedroom, stripped off her outer wear, called her service to give her a wake up call in the morning, and collapsed herself into sleep.

When she arrived at the office the next morning, there was no word from Lou and Ed, but before she could launch any inquiries, the phone rang. It was Jessica from Vaingirls. There had been new developments, she said, could Joan meet with Rose today, instead of next week?

Joan knew she was not scheduled for surgery, or anything, for that matter, today. Today was to have been a paperwork day. The security arrangements she had planned for the meeting with Rose were all in place, all she had to do was turn them on, so she agreed. The meeting was set for two o'clock.

When Robbie came in at noon, Joan told her that she was meeting with a business acquaintance, and would like a recording of the meeting. She did not want the business acquaintance to know she was being recorded, so would Robbie mind sitting in the supply closet with the recorder? It would be good to have a friend to help out if things got sticky, thought Joan.

As Robbie went to get the recording gear ready, Joan ran through her mental checklist. 'Number one: Get dressed.' Opening her office closet, she pulled out the special outfit she had selected for meeting Rose. She quickly moved toward the washroom where her makeup kit awaited. There was a lot to do before two o'clock.

Chapter 17: I Love It When A Plan Comes Together

Rose stood before Joan's office door at 1:59pm. She was dressed in the same black leather outfit she had worn the night before, and she was also wearing the same "Don't fuck with me!" attitude. She had pulled herself together in the limo, assuming that Joan would have security cameras focused everywhere from the street to the hallway in front of her door. She reflected on the events of the past twenty-four hours.

>From what Steve had said when he got back to Vaingirls about midnight, he and Robbie had done their part perfectly. She was willing to bet that Robbie was in Joan's office now, hidden somewhere as Joan's backup, a double agent. Joan trusting Robbie was part of the plan, and Rose hoped that things would progress today in such a way that Robbie would not have to blow her cover.

Ed and Lou were in Vaingirls' sub-basement, heavily sedated. G.A. had been out since 8:00am this morning, using the power of attorney both had signed, to transfer control of Transformation Systems to a holding company ultimately controlled by Adain, Salielah, and Rose. Later on today, the women would be trotted out to give carefully scripted answers to the questions of the Chicago Fire Department. G.A. was already making arrangements to break the lease on the apartment and pay for it's repair. He was hiring a moving company to move out all Lou and Ed's things; they wouldn't be going back there.

Rose had two aces in the hole down in the black Rolls parked at the curb. She took a deep breath, let the anger wash trough her one last time, and willed it to become ice cold determination. She was ready.

Without knocking, she opened the door and entered. There was nobody at the receptionist's desk, so she swept on by and strode into Joan's office. Joan rose from her seat, came around to the front of the desk, and as the two women appraised each other, the carefully scripted scenarios both had prepared fell apart. Both were prepared to be ice maidens, to stare down the other in the ultimate power struggle. Both tried to stare coldly; they tried to be stern. But little smiles began to tug at the edges of their mouth; both put a hand to their mouths to stifle giggles. The giggles escalated into outright laughter as the two embraced each other - if only to hold each other upright.

Both women were wearing the exact same outfit, head to toe, with their hair in the same style.

They finally pushed away, and held each other at arms length appraising each other, at least for the moment as long lost friends rather than enemies. "God, you look good, Rose," started Joan, "and your fashion sense is, of course, impeccable." She shook her head, and turned serious. "Rose, by all rights you should hate my guts. Do you? Because you ARE here, and here we are embracing like schoolgirl friends who haven't seen each other for ages."

Rose backed away a little, and held up her hands. "Joan, you wouldn't believe...well, I'll tell you later; for now, this?" She indicated with a sweep of her hand their identical looks. "Been here, done this. Could we sit?"

"Sure." Joan indicated the couch. "Want coffee or something?"

"Something. Got anything stronger?" Rose moved to the couch, seating herself in the corner at an angle so she could talk easily with Joan when she joined her.

Joan was by the coffee maker. "What did you have in mind?"

"Liquor, Joan; hard liquor; I think we need it, at least to start with. My personal preference is Jack Daniels."

Joan stared at Rose. "Ohmygawd, Rose, mine too; this is uncanny! I bet you like it double straight up?" Rose nodded. "Don't tell my patients, but I keep a bottle right here under the coffee maker." She bent down a bit seductively to get it, wondering if there was ANY Ross left to appreciate it. She was surprised when Rose laughed.

"No good, Joan. Ross is gone, and I prefer...other...outlets."

Joan just shook her head, and got the bottle out. 'Sheesh, she knew what I was doing! And I wonder what she means by "other outlets". This is going to be a VERY interesting conversation. I'm sure glad Robbie is recording it all.' She poured the drinks, using her most expensive, seldom used crystal glasses. She figured that if her butt and legs didn't impress her, she'd use something that would impress a lady. And she was right.

Rose took her glass and looked at it, swirled the amber liquid around in it. The crystal caused the light passing through the liquid to give it a beautiful depth and quality. She spoke appreciatively. "Beautiful glasses, Joan; Austrian? We have a set of Austrian crystal very much like this at home."

Joan seated herself on the couch at an angle facing Rose. Both women crossed their legs in exactly the same way at the same time. Both shook their heads. "Rose, this is really getting spooky!" Then Joan shook her head as if to get herself back on track. "And how is Adain? And Salielah?" Then she held up her hands. "Wait. You haven't answered my very first question yet. Do you hate me? I would think that you must. I certainly don't trust you, yet here we are, sitting on the couch sharing drinks and chatting, as I said, like long parted school chums."

'Show time,' thought Rose. "Joan, believe it or not, and I hope you will, I don't...hate you, that is. For a while I did, but I don't anymore. Do you remember the last words you said to me?"

Joan thought for a moment. "In the limo? No, not exactly, but..."

Rose shook her head. "No...no, not in the limo. In the operating room, as you gave me the knockout shot just before you operated."

Joan thought, but couldn't remember. She shook her head no. "No, I'm afraid not."

Rose leaned forward, and spoke with intensity. "You said, 'Good girl!' And I have been, by your standards. You're a bitch, Joan, no mistake about that. You're the biggest, baddest bitch on the block. But you didn't befriend and then betray me; Louise and Edwina did. I have them, by the way; we'll decide what to do with them later." This last she just tossed out in an off-handed manner.

Joan was somewhat in a state of shock. Rose had called her a bitch, which should have set off alarms in her brain, but she had said it in a neutral, maybe even an admiring tone of voice. And she had Lou and Ed!? And what was this 'We'll decide...'? She figured she ought to just listen, and not even try to say anything or do anything herself till Rose was done. After all, there was still Robbie watching out for her. And then she realized that Rose had continued talking.

"...so there I was in the middle of a who-the-hell-knows-where God-forsaken sand dune with two people who owned me and had the firepower to back it up. Not to mention that - remember I was still mentally Ross at the time - I was decked out as a shemale sex toy and figured I was pretty much going to have to BE that for quite awhile.

"I determined that I damned well wasn't going to just give up. If I couldn't get out, I was definitely going to try to arrange things to my liking! But how? Then it hit me; I had a role model for getting my own way. You, Joan; you!" She reached over and put her hand on Joan's thigh. "I thought about what you had told me in the limo; how adversity had just made you stronger, and how you got revenge - cold, calculating, patient revenge. Do you know that several months ago, Ross visited the Whip and Cuff and 'played' with Stella? I could see the force of your will just in the short time I knew you. I decided to let 'What would Joan do?' be my guide. And it worked, Joan. It worked exceedingly well! In fact, I have proof of how well it worked down in the car; would you like to see?" Without waiting for a response, Rose continued. "I don't hate you Joan, I admire you. I THANK you! I'm stronger, richer, and more capable than Ross ever would have been, and I LOVE being Rose! You became my mentor in absentia, and I just knew that the day would come when I could meet you again and thank you. I wasn't quite sure at the time whether I'd thank you as Ross or Rose, but now I know, and now you know. I'm a BITCH, Joan, a bitch just like YOU..." here, she rose from the couch and stood legs spread, arms thrown over her head in exultation "...and I LOVE IT!!!"

Joan's mind was working furiously. This was NOT what she had envisioned her meeting with Rose would be like. Before Jessica had called with Rose's request for a meeting, if she had thought of Rose and possibly meeting Rose again at all, it was in a scene where she was with Adain and in a totally subservient role, maid or sex slave or somesuch. Then had come Adain's frantic calls, and she had believed Rose dead. Then Jessica had called with the news that she was alive and wanted to meet, and she knew her original scenario for a second meeting would not come about. She hadn't known quite what to expect, anger, tears, threats perhaps, but not this. This was too much. "Pardon me, Rose, if I don't immediately embrace what you've just said as gospel. The Ross/Rose I remember was a nice person. While I remember thinking at the time that Ross wasn't quite the pushover he seemed, I never sensed the cold steel resolve to be a...bitch - yes, I suppose I am - ...a bitch like me. And you LIKE me? Rose, I SOLD you, for God's sake. What the hell have you got up your sleeve?!" As she had been saying all this, she had risen and was now facing Rose.

Rose reached out and gripped both her arms, looking her in the eye. "I brought proof. I told you. It's out in the car; may I show you?"

Joan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay. Turn your security cameras off. Trust me this far, please?" Rose was almost pleading. "I want this to be a surprise. If you have someone you trust, send him with me."

Joan debated a moment, and came to a decision. This was too intriguing to let drop. "Her...I have a her." She went to her desk and clicked on the intercom. "Robbie, would you come in here for a moment, please?"

When Robbie came in from the back office, Joan made the introductions. "Rose, this is my temporary secretary/receptionist, Robbie. Robbie, this is an old acquaintance of mine, Rose Thorn."

Robbie reached out and shook hands. "How do you do, Ms. Thorn." She looked at Joan. "How may I help, Dr. Adkins?"

"Go out to her car with Ms. Thorn..."

"Rose. Pleased to meet you, Robbie," Rose interrupted.

"...Go with Rose, and help her with whatever she needs, please."

"Certainly, Dr. Adkins; lead on, Rose." As Rose turned to exit, Robbie gave a raised eyebrows "Is she dangerous; should I watch her?" look at Joan. Joan gave her a "Yes...and like a hawk!" nod in return. Robbie gave a thumbs up as she exited following Rose.

As the door closed behind them, it was all the two actresses could do to maintain a professional demeanor for Joan's security cameras. Inside, each felt like giving the other a high five. So far, so good!

Joan pressed a button on her desktop, and a section of the desktop folded back and a monitor arose. Turn off her cameras, indeed! She moved to watch as the monitor showed Rose and Robbie leaving the building. She saw Rose drop a half step behind Robbie, and turn her head to look directly up at what was supposed to be a hidden camera. She mouthed some words, smiled and waved, and, as she turned her head back, the monitor went dark. A chill ran through Joan. 'What the hell is going on!?' she thought. She moved quickly to reboot the computer, but couldn't get anything new from the security cameras. She replayed the last few seconds, and enlarged Rose's face; she could tell that she was mouthing the word "couch". She looked over at the couch, and there, sure enough, was a sheet of yellow legal pad paper folded into quarters stuck in the crease between the two seat cushions. Dreading just a little what she might read, she walked over to the couch, pulled it out, and opened it; it smelled slightly of "Obsession" perfume. She read:

Dear Joan,

I'm writing this as I'm getting ready to leave Vaingirls for your office. If you're reading this, then things are going as I hoped, and I am currently getting my "surprise" from my car. Don't worry. I rigged your security camera's with a disable switch on my way in, but only because I REALLY want this to be a surprise. I give you my word it's nothing harmful to you, and I think you will be pleased and flattered a little by it. If, as I suspect, Robert/Robbie is your backup person, I suggest you give her - Joyce tells me he's mostly her now - the afternoon off when we return. It will be well worth your while.

Your student,

Rose Thorn.

Joan ran the note through her shredder, grabbed her glass and the bottle of Jack from the coffee table, was going to pour herself a double but thought better of it, poured a single shot instead, and tossed it down in one swift smooth movement. She went back to the desk and opened The Drawer. 'Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson,' she thought, 'now may be the time you earn your keep!' She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but a girl couldn't be too careful. She flipped open the cylinder and made sure all six bad boys were in position. Flipping it closed, she went over and unlocked the door, then positioned herself across the room at an angle to it so that whoever entered would have to turn and find her before firing. She moved a three drawer filing cabinet out from the wall and got behind it, resting her arms on the top. She held the gun in both hands in the manner she was taught, flipped off the safety, and waited.

A few minutes later, there came a knock at the door. Joan remained silent, and after a moment heard Rose's voice. "Joan?" And then a half minute later again, "Joan?" Another half minute and then, in a slightly disappointed voice, "Okay, Joan. Hardball." The door opened slightly, and a small canister was tossed in. It hit the floor and rolled to a stop by the leg of the desk.

There was no way Joan could reach it without exposing herself. "It's a nerve toxin grenade, Joan," came Rose's voice. "One of Adain's companies developed it. He developed it for the Israelis; sort of ironic, huh? It works through the skin, so unless you have a full bio suit on, in about a minute from now, you're going to be in a world of hurt. It can be disarmed, but requires a code to do so; even if you could get to it without exposing yourself to my line of fire, you couldn't disarm it - at least not quickly enough. You don't even want to know what it'll do to you." She paused to let that sink in. "Now, I'm going to send my 'surprise' in. She has the code. You could, of course, shoot her once she's finished disarming the grenade, but then I'd be forced to toss in the real grenades - fragmentation and incendiary with three second fuses. I give you my word, Joan; none of this is a trick. I want us to be friends. When you see the 'surprise', I'm sure you'll realize we have a GREAT deal in common."

The door eased open, and a woman slowly entered. She appeared terrified, and kept glancing back out the door. Whatever she saw outside the door obviously terrified her more than the possibility of being shot by her, Joan thought. The woman was dark haired, about 5'8" tall with a dynamite figure and, once you looked past the obvious terror, quite a cute face. It was what she was wearing that was unusual - a maids uniform. Oh, not a real utilitarian maid's uniform, but an every male's fantasy French Maid's uniform! 'Oh, my,' thought Joan, and did a quick inventory from the bright red toenails up: Open toed black patent leather five, maybe even six-inch heels; sheer black seamed stockings, the seams arrow straight; a black satin dress with puffy sleeves and a bodice designed to show maximum cleavage and just barely contain what were at least DD cup breasts; short skirt made even shorter by voluminous petticoats, and covered by a cute little apron with the name 'Dainie' embroidered on it in pink; heavy makeup, showgirl rather than slutty, on a face framed by really big Farah Fawcett '70's style hair; glittery jewelry was everywhere to complete the look. This was a high maintenance costume, meant to be uncomfortable and humiliating to the girl wearing it, while stirring lustful thoughts in every male who saw her. 'Her??' This was the kind of costume many of Joan's clients liked for their shemale slaves. Could it be...

By this time, Dainie had gone to the grenade and, bending at the waist, had reached down and disarmed it. She had, of course, revealed her pretty ruffled panties while doing so, and Joan realized she must have been taught to pick things up that way as a tease. She was straightening when it hit Joan: 'DAINIE!!' Her mouth dropped open in shock, and the Smith & Wesson clattered on the file cabinet top as it was released by her nerveless fingers. 'OHMYGAWD!!' She stood up, totally forgetting any threat from Rose just outside. "A...A...Adain?? Adain Ben Hariesh??"

The girl's face, that had almost relaxed to normal, took on that horrified earlier look, and she literally cringed with fright. "N...No, mistress! No! Dainie, please, mistress, just Dainie!" She gave a frightened look toward the door, and dropped into a shaky curtsy. "Just Dainie!"

"Or anything else I choose to call you, GIRL!" came Rose's voice from outside the door. The tone of voice sent a shiver down even Joan's spine. "Isn't that right?"

Dainie was literally vibrating with fear now. "Yes, mistress Rose; certainly, mistress Rose. Anything, mistress Rose!"

The door slammed open, and Rose strode into the room and up to Dainie, completely ignoring any threat from Joan. She held out her hand. "Hand me the grenade!"

Trembling, Dainie picked it up off the desk and handed it to her. "You stupid bimbo!" Rose got right in Dainie's face. "DO...YOU...REALIZE what could have happened if this grenade had rolled off the desk you oh so casually set it on? No. OF...COURSE...YOU...DON'T, because you ARE just a stupid, brainless little bimbo aren't you?" More cringing. "AREN'T YOU!?"

"Y...y...yes, mistress."

"SAY IT!"

"M...m...mistress??"

"SAY...IT!"

Dainie just collapsed while still standing; Joan could just see her wilt in complete abject surrender. "Dainie is a stupid, brainless little bimbo, mistress."

Rose backed off, and addressed Dainie in a normal tone of voice. "Go stand in the corner over there, girl!"

Dainie immediately turned, and walked to the corner of the office away from the two women. "And straighten your stockings! I did not raise you to be a slob." Shakily, Dainie did so, then faced into the corner, feet together, ramrod straight, with her hands clasped behind her back. "DID...I!?"

Barely audible. "No, mistress, Dainie was not raised to be a slob."

Rose turned to face Joan, who had come out from behind the file cabinet and was standing with her empty hands out; the gun remained laying on top of the file cabinet.

A smile lit up Rose's face, and she was immediately transformed back into the pleasant woman she had been twenty minutes earlier. "I'm sorry about that, Joan, but I swear, you give her just a simple task..." She saw that Joan was nodding toward the corner and she turned. Both women could tell Dainie was trying very hard to stand motionless, but little tremors were passing through her body every few seconds. Rose looked at Joan, rolled her eyes, and went over to Dainie. She gently started to massage Dainie's neck and shoulders and murmuring to her in a soothing tone of voice. Joan couldn't hear what was said, but she could see Dainie begin to visibly relax. Within a minute or two she was still standing in what Joan labeled her "punishment position", but she was standing in it easily, without the tremors and tension. Rose's voice rose. "There now, all better?"

Dainie nodded. "Yes, Mistress Rose."

Rose turned her head toward Joan so that Dainie couldn't see, smiled and winked, and then turned back. "Dainie," she said in the same soothing voice, only now loudly enough for Joan to hear, "I know this will be difficult for you, sweetie, but I want you to tell Mistress Joan who you were."

"M...must I, Mistress?" Dainie's voice quavered.

"Yes, you must, dear. You know she'll find out later, anyway; it's better if you tell her yourself. After all, it's not like you still are that person, now is it?"

"N...no, Mistress Rose."

"Good. Now turn around." Rose placed her fingertips on Dainie's shoulder, gently guided her around, and then nodded slightly.

Dainie curtsied. "M...Mistress Joan, I used to be a confused, pitiful male by the name of Adain Ben Hariesh."

When she paused, Rose prompted. "And who are you now?"

"Dainie, Mistress Joan. Just Dainie."

'Even the body language is entirely feminine! If this is an act, it's a damn good one!' Of all the many questions going through Joan's mind, one forced its way out between her lips. "WHY?!?" It was a question loaded with puzzlement. In Joan's mind, the last image of Adain Ben Hariesh was of a handsome, tuxedoed, very male supremely confident looking and acting MAN. Now, as she looked closely at Dainie, she could tell from size and facial features that she was (?) Adain. "WHY!?" And then, more softly, "Why, Adain!??"

Dainie cringed, and looked pleadingly at Rose.

"Please don't call her that, Joan," said Rose. "It just upsets her." She turned to Dainie and gently lifted her chin, then looked her in the eyes. "She doesn't understand yet, sweetie. I know it's hard, but you must answer her question," and as Dainie hesitated, with a little steel now in her voice, "now!"

In a tremulous voice and looking at the floor, Dainie began to speak. "Because Mistress Rose wants me to be, Mistress Joan." She paused, then straightened up and looked directly at Joan and smiled. "Because I love Mistress Rose, and want to please her in any way I can!" She became animated and vibrant; Joan was amazed at the transformation. "Oh, Mistress Joan, she is so beautiful, and so smart. She saw through my male disguise to the doubt and confusion within, and showed me the way! Now I am so happy; I'm not confused any more; I KNOW who and what I am. I am my Mistress's lover and servant...NO!..." she became almost defiant, and looked at Rose. "...Mistress Rose, I know you don't like me to use the word, but it's TRUE!..." She looked back to Joan. "...I am her SLAVE! I am anything she wants me to be. Now I have only one thing to think about, and that is how best to make her happy. And I am so happy, Mistress Joan, so very, very happy!" With that she dropped her head, and waited to see if her outburst had earned her punishment.

Instead, Rose put her arms around her and gave her a hug. She looked at Joan then back down at Dainie, lifting her chin up once again. She uttered two words, and looked at Joan and smiled the smile of a cat who has just eaten a canary. The significance and irony of the smile and the words was not lost on Joan; the two words had been, "Good girl."

Chapter 18: Mommy Dearest

She turned back to Dainie, and spoke to her like a proud parent. "Dainie, honey, I am so proud of you! I'm so sorry I had to speak harshly to you earlier, but you do know that you deserved that, don't you?" Dainie nodded yes. "And don't you feel so much better, now?" Dainie shyly smiled, and nodded yes again. "Now, I want you to go down and wait for me in the car. Sukie misses you, and you can play with her till I come down. When we get home, you can change out of that horrid outfit - yes, I know you hate it, but it was necessary - and I'll do your hair for you in the twin ponytails you like so much."

Dainie was smiling, and almost jumping up and down with excitement. "You mean it? You really mean it, mumm...I mean, Mistress Rose." She stilled, and looked fearfully at Rose.

"That's all right, dear. I'm going to tell Mistress Joan - you may call her Dr. Joan, by the way - all about us, anyway. Now, run along." Rose made shooing motions with her hands, and Dainie turned to leave. "Oh, wait. Tell Miss Robbie she can go on home. To come in tomorrow, as usual." She turned to Joan. "Is that all right, Joan?"

Joan nodded. She was beyond trying to figure any of this out as it went along, and was simply filing things away to be sorted later. If Rose really meant to do her harm, she could have done it at any time during the last twenty minutes, when Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson were lying on top of the file cabinet, quite out of her reach. Rose made the shooing motions again, and Dainie left. 'My gawd, she's skipping!' Joan thought, as she watched.

"Sukie?"

Rose laughed. "Her doll. Look, Joan, why don't we relax. You pour us a couple of Jacks. I sure need one, maybe two, and I bet you do, too. If we were going to try to kill each other, it would be over by now. Let's sit, and I'll tell you all about the last couple of years of my life." She seated herself.

Joan nodded, and headed for the bottle of Jack. She was acutely aware of the fact that Rose had deliberately left the question of who would be left standing if they had tried to kill each other unanswered.

Joan poured for them both. She was just seating herself facing Rose when the phone rang; she stopped herself, rose, and moved to the desk to answer it. It was Robbie from the limo, seeking confirmation of Dainie's message. Rose watched Joan as she replied in the affirmative, hung up, and returned to the couch. 'So far, so good!' she thought, and began the story The Group had prepared:

"Joan, you heard Dainie almost call me 'mummy'. I don't really treat her as my maid, and dress her like that. I did that for the effect it would have on you and to demonstrate the control I have over her, should I choose to exercise it. Most of the time I have Dainie, my six-year old daughter. I did not tell her before this morning that we were going to do this, and you can see how terribly hard this was for her. You're a doctor, a psychologist as well as a surgeon, do you believe she was faking?"

Joan thought about it for a moment. "No, Rose. All the signs were there; she HATED what she was doing and how she was dressed." It didn't occur to Joan that she was not even thinking that the scared and timid creature she had seen was really male and really Adain Ben Hariesh. Rose reminded her.

"Adain's still in there, you know, and I can call him out if he's needed, but I don't like to do it, and Dainie doesn't like it. Let me tell you why.

"As I got used to being with Adain and Salielah, I found that, unlike I had expected, they were truly nice people. I found out that you and Lou and Ed had tricked them into believing that I was a voluntary shemale consort, and that the scene in the limo was to fulfill a fantasy of mine. In fact, I grew to love them; I still do, but I have to love Adain mostly as Dainie now.

"I noticed over time that Adain was not a happy man. Or a healthy one. Salielah showed me his last physical results, and they were scary; he was a walking heart attack magnet on top of a bunch of other potential physical disasters. He survived and prospered by sheer force of will. Inside his head, he was a mess, too. When he wasn't consciously controlling his personality, he became moody and withdrawn. His lovemaking was erratic; when he was up, it was skyrockets and Handel's Hallelujah Chorus intermixed with great tenderness; when he was down, he just couldn't get it up." She chuckled at the unintended pun. "He was never cruel, though, and terribly apologetic when things didn't go right. Outside the bedroom, it was the same. He would come in at night calm and confident, and within minutes, he was whining and complaining about little things like a baby. Salielah and I discussed it; she was at her wits' end, and I couldn't help her much. You see the pattern, don't you?"

Joan nodded. 'Manic-depressive.'

"One morning, though, he came into the kitchen where I was having a cup of coffee, having just finished fixing breakfast. He looked terrific - like he did the night of The Party, remember? The confident, impeccably dressed, in control male. His behavior was something else. The oatmeal was too lumpy, there wasn't enough pulp in the orange juice, and on and on. I snapped. And I did what I had determined to do earlier, but hadn't really done yet: I asked myself, 'What would Joan do?' You, I realized, wouldn't put up with this kind of crap. I grabbed his shoulder, pulled him around to face me, and cracked him across the face. Hard. He just stared at me open mouthed, in shock. I was acting on autopilot, or as I now think of it, 'Joan-pilot'. I pulled one of the chairs out from the kitchen table and turned it so that it was facing away from the table, and seated myself, never breaking eye contact with him.

"'Drop those pants!' I ordered. He looked at me. 'NOW!' He got the strangest look on his face, and did it. 'Over my knees...NOW!' And he did it! Slowly, but he did it! 'Wow!' I thought to myself. 'If...you...are...going to behave like a child,' I said forcefully, 'I...will...treat you like one!' And I smacked him hard right on his jockey shorts - ten times! And he took it! I remember thinking 'OHMYGAWD, I'm spanking my master!' and I swear, Joan, I could hear your voice in my head saying, 'None of that. Keep going! You're on the right track.' And I was; after ten smacks, I told him to get up, pull his pants up, and face me with his hands behind his back. He did, but he was looking at the floor. 'Adain,' I told him, 'look at me!'

"When he looked at me, I was shocked. There was a look of absolute peace and contentment on his face. All he said was, 'Yes, Rose?'

"I spoke to him as I would a child. I explained that if he wanted things a certain way, he had to tell me. I asked him if he was upset that I had spanked him, and he told me calmly that he had deserved it. Then he told me to do it again if I thought it was necessary, and asked me what he should do next! Well, I told him to pull himself together and go to work. He was smiling as he left, and I raced to tell Salielah what I had discovered.

"We began to treat Adain like he was a child whenever we were in the house with no one else present. He was a very pleasant and obedient child. I think he deliberately misbehaved in minor ways every once in a while just so he could get a spanking. At first this shocked me - understand I was raised white bread suburban - but as I researched on the Net, I found the desire to be treated like a child a very common fetish. We discovered almost accidentally that adult Adain would come out if we asked, so we asked him to come out and then simply asked him, why? What did he get out of it? Well, it turned out that he was much better, much sharper, and just generally felt better on the job because there was no pressure on him at home. I had suspected as much because that's what the research showed.

"Gradually, though, he began to make excuses not to go to work. It didn't matter much at first, because much of his work could be done at home or delegated, and Salielah and I began to have him teach us the business; the more he taught us, the more we would let him stay a child. He was becoming addicted to childhood.

"One day, we found him curled up asleep in a chair called The Maiden's Chair, a family heirloom. We could tell by his posture that he was in child mode. He looked so adorable that we decided to have some fun. While Salielah went and got my makeup case and some clothes of hers that would fit him, I got a brush, and began to brush his hair, which was long for a man, gently waking him up. When he was awake, we began to tease him that since he had chosen to sleep in the Maiden's Chair, he must want to be a maiden.

"I put his hair into twin ponytails, and he didn't object. Well, to make a long story short, he didn't object to any of it. When we were done, we had a little girl, no doubt about it, and there was no going back. From that point, 'she' was Dainie, and 'she' loved it! Little Adain had been a pleasant but quiet and shy boy, but Dainie girl was alive with fun and exuberance. She devoured girlhood like a starving person. Barbie was her best friend. If it wasn't frilly and lacy, she wouldn't wear it, and she demanded we teach her girl games and skills. It got harder and harder to get her to become adult him and go to the office. Finally, Salielah and I brought him out and told him he had to give us joint power of attorney for everything, which he gladly did. We told him that from that point on he would always be Dainie, our little girl, Dainie, and that as Dainie she had to do what we told her just as if she really was six years old. We would only ask for Adain in emergencies. He agreed, and signed the proper papers. As soon as HE had signed the last one, the pen fell from HER hand. That's when she started calling me 'mummy' and Salielah, 'Aunt Sally'. I think that Salielah was a little upset at first that she wasn't 'mummy', but she got over it.

"From that point, Dainie was with us on an almost permanent basis. After several months we sent her, as Adain, for another physical exam. The doctor was amazed. Almost all the physical results were normal for a healthy man in his thirties! He just told us that whatever we were doing, keep it up."

Joan interrupted excitedly. "Yes! I can see it! It must have been horrible for him, a sensitive little girl, in a boy's body, growing up in a traditional Muslim household. And then when she discovered boys, he had no choice but to think himself gay, and suffer all the stress of hiding that. His role models were the women in the household, but she was forced to act like a man, and his father would have demanded that he become a successful man. She had the intellect and ability to pretend and did, not even realizing she was doing it. The stress must have been terrible and cumulative. Rose, you most undoubtedly saved his life!"

Rose smiled inwardly. 'She's buying it all! I LOVE it when a plan comes together!' She continued to Joan. "Yes, I'm sure I did. Salielah and I. True, I have lost my lover, but I've found that I LIKE men, and there were and are no lack of them. As you knew and I found out, they are so easily manipulated, and can be trained to give pleasure in so many different ways..." she smiled a Joan smile, "...as you know!

"I found that I had gained quite a bit, too." She let passion into her voice, and leaned forward. "Maternal love is so fulfilling, Joan! I can never have children of my own, but I love Dainie just as if I were her mother. And Salielah has become my best friend. When I was Ross, I had guys I called my friends. Then I met Lou and Ed. When I believed them to be my friends, when, toward the end, they were treating me as their girlfriend, it was better. But the bond I've developed with Salielah is incredible; we are like sisters by choice. Men simply do not know how much they are missing by not being women. Because I was a man, I do. I don't hate Lou and Ed for turning me into a woman; I could love them for that. I hate them for the betrayal of girl friendship!"

 

 

 

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