One Good Day

by

Heather Sinclair

 

I was passing! Nobody even looked at me twice, except to check me out. Of course, I was moving along at seventy miles an hour, so that helped a bit. My first real night out, en femme, was a complete success... so far.

I had chosen a sultry look this evening. Just a little black spaghetti strapped dress, with black hose and my black three inch slingbacks. My long auburn curls laid gently on my shoulders. It was a wig, for sure, but it was human hair and it cost me a pretty penny. However the end result was well worth the cost.

My make-up was dark and striking to bring out my sapphire blue eyes, and my lips glistened with the new ruby gloss that I found this morning whilst shopping for this evening's unveiling.

I had plans to hit a few clubs later and see how many boys would talk me up. Maybe dance a bit. Maybe flirt a bit.

I have spent the last ten years in silent hiding, waiting for this moment. I have watched my figure. I have spent every night since I moved out of my parent's house, in a training corset, trying to slim my midsection and flair out my hips.

Walking, night after night in high heels, just to perfect my balance. Practicing my make-up day after day until it was just right. All of my efforts finally paid off and I was having the time of my life.

I finally reached the club. I was a bit nervous, but my confidence in my guise won out in the end. Exiting the car I slung my tiny purse over my arm and sashayed to the front door and the waiting bouncer.

The line was long, but I caught his eye. He drank me in slowly from my well-toned calves to my pursed lips until he reached my seductive eyes. He held out his hand for me and I accepted his help up the stairs.

"Have a good evening, Miss." He half whispered, half-choked.

I rewarded him with a hopeful smile. He was putty in my hands.

A hard driving beat assaulted me when the doorman performed his sacred duty. I was drawn in to the dark and the light, each trying their best to dominate me, but I am not to be taken so easily. Not yet, anyway.

It felt as if the crowd parted just for me. Girls latched to their conquests for the evening, leered at me with panther eyes, daring me to make my move. Their claws were out, because they knew I was a threat.

I tested my power with a suggestive smile at one of the drooling, testosterone-laden figures. He twitched, just a little, before he was tugged backward into the possessive clutches of his feminine owner of the evening. I laughed inwardly knowing I fooled each and every one of them.

The bar was blocked with couples, shoulder to shoulder, nursing their overpriced cocktails. The tender caught sight of me and I pouted slightly until he swatted an intoxicated couple away.

His hands lay upon the bar as he leaned, more than he needed to, in order to hear what I wanted to drink. I saw his eyes dart down ever so quickly to take in my shapely legs until they were out of sight, hidden by the three feet of oak that separated us.

I leaned in also, brushing my counterfeit breast against his arm and gave him my order. He lingered just long enough to catch my scent and then scurried off to mix my drink. I turned around and caught a few eyes locking onto mine.

The most prominent feature of being a woman is the power that she wields. The power to pick and choose her prospective mate. Males had lost this advantage long ago. No longer would a woman sit on the side waiting to be chosen. It is she who would do the choosing.

I felt the hand of the bartender lay lightly on my shoulder, catching my attention, telling me that my drink was ready. I turned and smiled my thanks, moving the drink closer. Pursing my lips I took the straw between them and slowly sucked the liquid into my mouth.

He stood there and watched, his mouth slightly agape. My eyes closed as I felt the warming rum slide down my throat. I let the straw fall slowly back into the glass and slid my tongue out to brush the remnants away from my lips. I could tell he wanted to be the one to perform this erotic function for me, but I had my sight's set a little higher this evening.

Tonight I was the goddess and every man was my servant. My drinks were bought; my mere presence was reward enough for my prospective suitors. I was danced and held when the occasion was called. I was flirted with and I flirted back. A light caress here, a squeeze there, just to encourage them.

I felt a bit warm and knew enough to sit a few songs out. I didn't want to destroy all of my work with a few ounces of sweat. My current beau led me to his table. There was only one chair, the other having long since been stolen. I knew what my man wanted and I gave it to him.

I pushed him down to the chair and sat down atop him. I immediately felt what I suspected I saw on the dance floor. He was rigid with desire for me and I could feel every inch of his longing. His hand rest on my silken thigh, holding me, preventing me from moving in the slightest.

I decided to play it up and leaned into him, my arm encircling his neck, my lips at his ear. I said nothing. Instead I exhaled as light as I could, letting him feel my heat, letting him sense my desire. I crossed my leg and let him slide his hand a bit lower, underneath the spaghetti strapped little black dress to cup my firm buttocks.

Oh, how he wanted me. He squeezed softly and I blew a light air into his ear. He responded.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

I nodded.

"I came with my friends. Do you have a car?" He added.

I nodded again.

As we exited the door I noticed the bouncer still on duty. I motioned to my beau for a moment and slid up next to the club's guard.

"Thank you." I brushed my lips on his cheek and proceeded to the parking lot.

I cast a glance back and saw him holding his cheek. Poor guy, probably never gets to see any action until later in the night, and even then it's the castoffs.

We approached my car and I retrieved the key, handing it to my beau. He opened the passenger side door and gave me a hand in. I let the dress ride up a bit more than I was going to and he got an eye full of my entire thigh. After seeing his reaction I just couldn't bring myself to pull my dress down.

He closed the door and hurried to the drivers side, sliding in swiftly. I breathed a bit heavily and he took it as a sign to make his move. His hand slid along my thigh as his lips assaulted my mouth. I released all of my inhibitions and let him dominate the moment.

His tongue distracted me with a blissful battle inside my mouth, so much so that I didn't notice his hand leave my thigh. It wasn't until he relented and drew up for breath that I noticed the handkerchief in his hand.

Before I even had a chance to comment, he covered my mouth and nose with the cloth. My first reaction was to scream and that took air. I inhaled, but that was what he was waiting for. My mind clouded and seconds later I was asleep.

~*~

I slowly came to and became aware of my surroundings. The bed I was laying atop, the soft music in the background, the gentle lighting from a dozen candles surrounding the room, and lastly the bonds that held my ankles and wrists to the bedposts.

I sighed in relief that I was still fully clothed, and by the feel of my body, nothing had been violated... yet. I steeled my nerves and realized that I needed to get out of this dangerous situation.

"Hello." I said tentatively.

It didn't take long for my keeper to respond.

"Sleeping Beauty finally wakes." He said as he entered the room.

I tried to keep my voice even and reasonable. "Why do you have me tied up? I came with you willingly."

His face fell into a mock frown. "That's the problem, you see. I don't like my women willing."

I started to respond, but he shushed me.

"I have a business meeting in a few moments and if you are good I won't have to gag you."

"But, I..." I protested.

"Aww, there now you went and done it."

He moved to a bureau and opened a small drawer. Producing a red ball with straps protruding from either side. He closed to the bed.

My eyes went wide. "No please, I'll be good, please."

"Too late, sugar lips."

I tried to resist, but his hand was too strong in forcing my mouth open. He inserted the ball and pulled my head up to fasten it in the back.

"There now, isn't that much better?" He stood looking down upon my helpless form. A deep smile crossed his lips and he rearranged his self, down there. "Damn, but you do look hot all trussed up like that. I can't wait for the meeting to be over with."

He laughed a bit. "Is your pussy getting wet?"

I'm so screwed. Once he finds out I'm not a real girl, I'm dead. Tears began to well up in my eyes.

"That's it. I love it when they cry."

He lowered himself on top of me. I could feel my bonds tighten. His hand started at my knee and trailed up my thigh to my hip.

"Let's see how wet that little pussy is, shall we?"

I closed my eyes and prayed to every god I could think of to help me. His hand reached the top of my hose and tugged them down just enough for him to get his hand to my crotch.

"What the fuck is this? You're a guy?"

He leaped from the bed as if I were a leper.

"Fuck! You're a fucking guy!"

He stomped over to his bureau and produced a knife, the biggest knife I had ever seen. I'm so dead.

"Fucking faggots. Every time you turn around, there they are."

I couldn't help myself. I knew it wouldn't do any good but I screamed behind the ball gag. It only seemed to encourage him. He cut the bonds at my ankles and moved to my wrists. Once I was free he didn't let me move a muscle, holding the knife at my throat.

I think the only thing that saved me at that moment was the ding-dong sound of the doorbell.

He whipped his head around to the front of the house. "Fuck, they're early."

"You're lucky, fag. You get an extra five minutes to live."

He pulled me up and dragged me to an empty closet, empty except for the leather strap hanging from the ceiling. He secured my wrists to the restraint and closed the door. It was almost pitch black except for the small amount of light creeping between the carpet and the door.

I tested the restraints and they held rather well. That didn't prevent me from trying even harder to release myself.

I heard voices, yelling actually, from the next room. The first was from my captor.

"I told you ten grand."

"Two is all I got." An unknown voice answered.

"Then fuck off until you get the other eight."

"Why don't you just give me two grand worth."

"It don't work that way, spic. Now go back to home and play with the other..."

Two gunshots rang throughout the house followed by a resounding thump. I'm sure the body that hit the floor was my captor, so I stayed perfectly still, not wanting whoever had the gun to find me.

"Get the smack and lets get out of here."

"What if there's more?" Came a voice that I had not heard before.

"Fuck that. Someone's bound to have heard the shots. We haveta blow, 'mano."

Another few moments and I heard a door close. I released my breath that I hadn't realized I was holding, and resumed my attack on the strap that was holding my wrists. But it was no use. I was stuck.

~*~

I waited and waited for the police to come. I waited so long. My arms had long since gone numb from the restraints, as well as being positioned above my head. I had cried after a bit when I came to the realization that the police weren’t coming. Nobody heard, or nobody wanted to get involved.

My jaw ached from being forced open by the ball gag for so long. I tried to stand on my toes to relieve the pressure of my bonds, perhaps get some blood circulating again. After a moment I was rewarded with a slight tingling sensation in my hands. Thank God.

It wasn't much but a little feeling came back, enough to let me grip the leather strap and lift my legs. I braced my back against the wall of the small closet and pushed off to kick at the door. It shuddered. Again. I heard wood splinter this time. Again.

The door finally gave way and slammed against the outside wall only to swing back and nearly shut again. I dropped back down on the balls of my feet, whispering, in my head, a silent prayer of thanks that I wasn't trapped in the dark anymore.

With the closet illuminated I could better take inventory of my situation. I'm in a closet, an empty closet, and I am hung up like a side of beef. I'm gonna die.

Stop thinking thought like that. You are a confident powerful woman. Check that. You are a stupid cheap transvestite that was stupid enough to let some freak-a-zoid pick you up and almost kill you.

He got his though, didn't he. I imagined the pool of his own blood he was lying in right now. Serves the bastard right. I hope he died slow. Fucker.

If only I had the chance... I caught something out of the corner of my eye, a glimmer. There at the corner of the closet... the big fucking knife! He must have dropped it down there

I extended my foot and was just able to brush the edge of the handle. I pulled at my bonds. With just another inch I could have it in my grasp. Success!

Now what? All I have to do is grip it enough to bend at the waist and saw at the leather strap with my feet holding the knife. Except I had multiple problems with this. One, I'm wearing hose and I can't grip anything, and two, even if I could, there is no way I am strong enough to perform such a feat.

 

Chapter 2

I spent the rest of the night in tears. My salvation, in the form of a very sharp looking knife, lay at my feet and there was nothing I could do to get free.

The next morning I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness, too tired to do anything else but plan my slow death by starvation and thirst.

Thoughts replayed in my head of my first time dressing, each of my lovers, and the previous night's feeling of freedom. It was ironic in a way, that the one and only night I was truly free and finally unbound by the shackles of my manhood was the same night I would be put into bondage until my dying breath.

Is this God's way of punishing me? Which is a really funny thought since I haven't believed in a higher power since I was old enough to understand what God really was.

But it always comes to this. Whenever things are at their worst, you always revert back to your childhood teachings. Trust in God... he will provide.

Well, I'll tell you what he's providing now. A slow painful death.

~*~

I had watched the sun rise and disappear from the east window. It must be near noon by now. The pressure from my bladder was getting quite intense. After all of those drinks, I still haven't used the bathroom since before I left the club.

Thoughts flew through my head of just letting it rupture. Effectively ending any worries of a slow death in lue of uric acid poisoning and internal bleeding. It would still be painful, but a tad bit quicker than the alternative.

I pondered this for about another hour or so. I really couldn't tell. But all of my thoughts went to the wayside when I heard a noise coming from the front door. A key in a lock, I think.

A female voice broke the silence. "Honey, I'm home!"

I was completely indecisive about what I was going to do. This could be his partner in crime, in which case I was screwed. Or, I could take a chance...

"Help!" My voice cracked from the dryness in my throat.

I waited for a second and tried again.

"Help!"

It was mere seconds before a female figure stood at the doorway.

"What the hell?" She gawked. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

I almost laughed, but couldn't find the strength.

"Could you untie me, please?"

She finally stopped thinking about my intrusion and looked at my predicament. She finally moved with a bit of determination to me and put her arms around my waist.

I stopped her. "I'm not hooked on anything. Get the knife down there and cut me loose."
She looked down and saw the big fucking knife. She picked it up and started sawing at my bonds.

"Who are you?" She asked.

I pleaded at her with my eyes. "Please just get me down and let me use the bathroom and I'll answer any questions you want."

She looked a bit confused. "Bathroom...how long have you been tied up in here?"

"Since last night."

I lifted my legs a bit to put more pressure on the bonds. This resulted in them finally breaking and me falling to the floor. I winced in pain from the fall and my total lack of ability to prevent it's happening. My arms were completely numb from being in that position all night and most of today.

I struggled to stand and she helped me up and to the bathroom, just a few steps away. I stumbled to the toilet, and realized that I wasn't going to be able to pull my hose down without help.

I looked down and back up at my savior. "My arms are dead asleep. Could you..."

She stopped and looked at my situation. Grudgingly she stepped up and reached her hands under my little black dress, and pulled my hose down. I sat as quick as I could and released my bladder. That is when the feeling started to return to my long dead arms.

I screamed.

~*~

It took the better part of fifteen minutes for the majority of the pain to subside and my brain to start functioning again. My arms glowed red and my wrists were rubbed raw from the struggling, however, I should recover.

I wiped and started to pull my hose back up. Then I laughed a bit hysterically, and ripped them off, throwing them in the little trash can beside the toilet. No more hose for me...ever.

I exited the bathroom and she was sitting on the bed waiting for me.

"So are you going to tell me what you are doing here." She said disgustingly. "Is my bastard husband cheating on me again?"

I saw an armchair beside the bed and sat down, totally exhausted.

"We met at a nightclub last night."

"Bastard!" She spat.

"I didn't know he was married. He wasn't wearing a ring." I explained.

She didn't seem to be angry at me.

"He took me back here and tied me up on the bed." I continued.

She shook her head. "Him and his fucking bondage games."

I decided to leave out the part where he found me out.

"He was going to rape me. That's where the knife came in." I swallowed. "Then we were interrupted by some friends of his."

She looked back up at me.

"That's when he moved me to the closet."

She looked a bit shocked at the revelation of the rape.

"He left you there to go party with friends? That doesn't make sense. For one thing, he doesn't have any friends. And another is that he knew I was coming back this afternoon." She said skeptically.

I shook my head and tried to think of a way to let her down.

"Did you know that he dealt drugs."

Her mouth dropped. "He...promised that was in the past. He said he'd quit."

I steeled myself. "That isn't the bad part."

She dropped her face in her hands, frustrated. "What else?"

"He's dead."

She froze. I don't know how long. It seemed like hours. It was probably only seconds. How do you tell someone that their husband tried to rape you, fucked up a drug deal and got himself shot. There was no easy way.

She finally broke the silence. "Where is he?"

I nodded to the bedroom door. "Out there somewhere. I just heard the deal go sour and the gunshots."

She looked at the door and slowly got up. I mustered enough energy to follow her. The living room was the same as it was last night, but I caught a faint whiff of something in the direction of the kitchen, I assumed.

"Over here, I think."

She led the way and pushed on the swinging door to the kitchen. That is when the smell hit me and almost knocked me over.

"Oh my God." She remarked, a bit too calmly I might add.

She turned and pushed passed me, running for the bathroom I guessed to empty her lunch in the toilet.

I held my breath and pushed the door back open.

His body lay on the kitchen floor, pooled in his own blood. A shocked look was forever frozen on his dead face.

I released my breath long enough to comment. "Serves you right, you fuck." Then I let the door close as I retreated back into the safety of the living room.

I saw my keys on the entryway table and grabbed them. I had to get out of here before the shit starts hitting the fan. I grabbed the doorknob before I heard her come back in the room.

"Where are you going?" She pleaded with me.

I turned back. "Lady, I have had just about enough for one date. I'd like to go home."
"What about..."

I knew what she was talking about. What about the cheating, drug dealing, rapist, stiff in the kitchen. I stopped and thought about it.

"I..." I was about to say I didn't want to get involved with anything else that has to do with the asshole, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"What do you want to do?" I answered instead.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" She offered half-heartedly.

I shook my head. "I can't get involved with the police."

A puzzled look crossed her face. "Why not? Is it the drug thing?"

There was no way to say this other than to say it. "I'm not exactly who I appear to be."

Now she was even more confused, and it seemed to play at her already frayed nerves. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm... a guy." I confessed.

Her face froze in mid reaction, then she started laughing. It was the hysterical laughing of a person in shock, but at least it was laughing. I was quite familiar with what she was feeling.

She paused long enough to sit on the arm of the white leather couch that lined the wall connecting to the bedroom.

"The bastard picked up a transvestite and was gonna fuck you. I bet he had the shock of his life."

I kinda grinned. "That isn't the half of it. And just for the record, I'm transgendered."

She paused in her laughing and looked at me straight-faced, then she laughed even harder.

~*~

I set my keys back on the entryway table.

"So what do you want to do with the asshole?" I asked.

She finally regained her composure. "I have a nice industrial wood chipper in the back."

That brought up memories of the movie Fargo, which sent shivers down my spine.

"Does he have any family?"

She shook her head no. "He's an orphan. No one will miss him. Except maybe his drug buddies."

I tried to reason this out. "He doesn't work?"

She shook her head again in the negative. "I own my own business. Ever heard of Ritual Cosmetics?"

Holy shit! That was a multi-billion dollar company. And this is the owner?

I nodded, dumbly. "I'm wearing that line."

She looked at me closer. "So you are. But not very well, right now."

I had forgotten that I spent the night crying. I must look like a hag. She saw my self-conscious expression.

"Look, let's get rid of the body and we'll fix you back up, okay?" She offered.

I was still confused. "Why don't you just call the cops?"

She became all business. "I can just see the papers now." She flicked her fingers up to pose quotes. "Business tycoon's husband killed in drug deal. I'd be all over the news and my company's stock would hit the skids." She paused. "This year has been a bad year and as inhumane as it sounds, I can't afford the publicity."

I let the information slam around in my head for a minute. "I..."

"I'll pay you, if that's what you want... for your inconvenience."

My hand shot up to ward off the thought. "It's not that. I don't want any money. I'm just happy to be getting out of here with my life."

"You poor dear. I can just imagine."

I weighed my options. I could hit the road and never look back; pack up my feminine belongings and throw then in the trash, effectively ending my life as a woman and be miserable in the process. Or, I could help this lady out.

Choices, choices.

"Do you have something else I could change into," I asked, "I don't want to ruin my dress.

She smiled for the first time, since I met her.

 

Chapter 3

We ended up taking the raping bastard to a wooded area about fifty miles outside of town and burying him six feet deep in the ground. We took great care to insure the area was not traveled and that the ground was nice and even, covered with leaves and underbrush.

Laurie, I came to find out later was her name, and I returned and cleaned up the remaining mess left behind. Luckily the rat bastard had the sense to get killed on linoleum, so we didn't have to worry about blood stains.

We burned the towels and clothing we were wearing that had any evidence of blood or any other bodily fluid ... ick, and scattered the ashes in the evening wind.

Laurie said that she would pack up the rest of his clothing and any incidentals and donate them anonymously to Goodwill or something.

The rat bastard was gone.

The hour was late and I was in no shape to drive back to my apartment in the city.

"You are more than welcome to spend the night here if you wish." Laurie offered.

I thought about it for a few seconds. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider it, but I was dead tired and I didn't want to be dead on the side of the road after falling asleep at the wheel.

"I have some things you can borrow in the bedroom."

She left for a few minutes and soon returned with a towel and sleepwear for the evening. I nodded my thanks and retreated to the guest bath, closing and locking the door.

I sighed as I leaned against the door. My eyes scanned the facilities. A shower stall ... not even a real bath. I hate my life. Luckily there was a ton of hot water. I know because I must have stood under the spray for at least thirty minutes just letting the pounding water work the kinks out of my worn body.

I checked my breasts and they actually seemed to be holding up, though the makeup I used to blend the seams was long ago washed or worn away. The marks on my wrists were turning purple.

Great.

I donned the black, spaghetti strapped chemise and matching house shoes and made my way to the bedroom. Laurie had already turned down the guest bed and to my delight I saw the sheets were silk, my favorite. It wasn't long before I clicked the lights off and snuggled under the spread for a restless night's sleep.

I do remember having several nightmares that evening. Each time I started awake I had to catch myself before I screamed with fright. I think I did sleep rather well after three or four in the morning.

Laurie let me sleep in and around ten, the smell of fresh brew coffee finally woke me.

I rose from the bed and noticed a satin robe hanging from the back of the door that I didn't remember from the night previous. Laurie must have hung it there after I fell asleep.

I donned the cover and made my way out, following the smell of the coffee.

"Well look at you. Not a redhead after all."

I smiled and ran my fingers through my blonde hair. "Wig."

She stood and walked over to the coffee pot. "I figured. Want some?"

I nodded. "Two sugars, please."

She poured the coffee and added two spoonfuls of sugar from a big container on the counter. She resealed the container and pushed it back with it's matching companions, against the wall.

"I was thinking, last night, after you went to bed." She delivered the mug in front of me which I took, smelled, and sipped cautiously. Way hot. I blew softly across the top to cool the beverage.

"About?"

"How I can repay you ... for ... "

I frowned. "I really don't want any money, and I want to keep this incident as quiet as you do. I don't need it to get out that I have this kind of extra-curricular life. I'd lose my job for sure."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean."

I took another sip.

I'm sure my brow furrowed. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

She offered her hand and led me to a set of barstools where we sat and she explained her plan.

"Do you get out like this often?"

"No, my first time was last night. I mean I dress every day of my life since I moved out of my parents house about ten years ago."

"And what line of work are you in?"

I shifted and crossed my legs. "I'm in marketing."

She smiled. "Perfect."

I sipped my coffee again. "For what?"

"What would you say if I offered you a job with Ritual."

I set my mug down. "Are you serious?"

I couldn't believe my ears. I had been in the same dead end job for the last five years with no hope of ever getting a leg up in my field.

She nodded.

"Doing what?"

"After seeing you last night ... well, I couldn't believe you were a guy. I mean you look so good."

I grinned. It's not often that I get that kind of compliment.

"Remember that I told you Ritual was kinda in the dumps recently?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's because of the competition. A lot of companies out there have really good make-up and care products. In reality there is not that much difference in product. One company might make a decent base, while another corners the market on eye shadow. Get my meaning?"

I nodded and agreed.

"What I want to do, with your help, is open a new market ... to men."

The cartoon-like bulb just went off in my head. "You mean T-Girls, like myself?"

"Exactly. And who better to head up that division than a ..."

"T-girl."

"Exactly."

My mind was moving at a million miles a minute, thinking of the online connections I have and the number of different areas that were marketable.

~*~

Laurie's idea rocked the industry. We had spent the remainder of the year going over different ideas. Ritual Cosmetics eventually expanded to create Ritual Transformations. Instead of just offering our products to stores and chains across America, we opened store after store, offering transformation services for the discriminating male.

Online business boomed with the introduction of my T-Life as example. I was able to live full time as a girl. My life didn't suck after all. I had thought my life ended on that faithful night at the club, but after the sun rose the next morning, I realized it was the beginning of a new life. I will always remember that one good day.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Heather Sinclair. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.