Role-Over                     by: Julia Manchester

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Special Thanks to Terry for her help in editing this story.

 

Dale drove very carefully in the slow lane of the freeway. It had been months since he had driven a car, and of course he’d never tried it wearing high heels and a tight, slim skirt until today. The spiked heels set his feet at an odd angle and made it more difficult to push down on the pedals or change position, and the skirt restricted his legs even while sitting. His cautiousness also arose from the fact that the car was brand new.

It was all his! The little red convertible was a present from Sandy, though he had chipped in a bit of his earnings from the personal services contract he had signed with "The Sweet Shot." Dale reveled in his newfound freedom to come and go without being dependent on others for rides. The small import was clearly a "girl’s car," with a small engine and white vinyl upholstery, but Dale didn’t mind a bit. Sandy had put the top down for him before he left the house, and he was enjoying the beautiful, late spring day as he drove to pick up Julie. The two of them were meeting Gail and Colleen at one of the local malls, and Dale was looking forward to their get-together. He hadn’t seen Colleen or Gail since he had quit Boomer’s, and he didn’t want to lose touch with them.

Even at a sedate 50 mph the breeze whipped Dale’s hair around and he brushed it out of his eyes and from around his mouth. He briefly debated pulling on to the road shoulder and tying his hair back in a ponytail, but he decided it could wait until he got off the highway.

When he pulled into Julie’s apartment complex Dale parked his car far away from any other vehicle, and took a minute to fix his hair before grabbing his purse and sliding gracefully out of the car. He was wearing a white, button down blouse over a black demi-bra, which of course showed through the thin blouse like a lingerie ad. He really didn’t know what had made him choose that bra, but he had felt a little daring while he was dressing, and it seemed to go so well with his tight black skirt and black, patent leather pumps.

Julie grinned when she opened the door and looked Dale over, from head to toe. "You look super -- I love that outfit," she gushed as she took Dale’s hand and pulled him into her apartment. And I also see that you’ve been a busy girl," she added, holding up a magazine.

Dale’s face turned beet red when he saw Julie hold up a magazine published by the local Chamber of Commerce. The back cover was a full page, full color advertisement for "The Sweet Shot," most of which consisted of a photo of Dale lying on his side on a pool table with his head propped up with one hand while the other arm stretched towards the camera, his index finger beckoning the viewer to come closer. The caption beneath the picture read: "Show me your best shot at The Sweet Shot!"

The promotional shots had begun appearing in newspapers, magazines, brochures, and even brief television commercials, and Dale was mortified by his appearance and the accompanying captions, all of which were variants of the one in the magazine. Even worse, the half-hearted smile Dale had fixed on his face came across instead as a sexy stare that literally oozed sensuality, and the skimpy little outfit revealed entirely too much of his charms in his prone position.

"I, ah, I got talked into doing that," he replied lamely, and Julie smiled broadly.

"What’s the matter? Don’t you enjoy being a sex symbol?" She taunted him good-naturedly.

"Not really. It’s kind of . . ."

"Demeaning?" Julie finished for him.

"Yeah," Dale answered truthfully.

"Well, it certainly looks like you were having a good time," Julie teased. "Your nipples look like they’re about to punch holes in that little crop top you had on."

Dale took a closer look at the picture and saw that Julie was right, but he didn’t remember his nipples being erect. He certainly hadn’t been excited about doing it, and sure hadn’t been cold under those hot lights.

"I think somebody airbrushed that into the pictures," he remarked in a disgusted tone of voice.

"Could be," Julie allowed, "but the look on your face is incredible! It looks like you’re begging to be 'serviced!’ How do you do that?" She asked playfully.

Dale groaned and pushed the magazine back at Julie. "Just great!" He grumped, leaning against the wall. "I was trying to play it cool and I wind up looking like a cheap whore!"

"Not a whore, honey, or at least not a cheap one, but when I look at that picture I see a girl who needs some attention from a man."

"Wonderful," Dale replied in a forlorn voice. Next weekend I have to make the first round of personal appearances, and everyone is going to take me for a sex-crazed bimbo!"

"Well, look on the bright side of it. Business will probably start booming with these ads," Julie commented. "You ought to get some shares in the business out of this. Oh, and take a gun to keep the guys at a respectable distance," she joked.

Julie’s remark reminded Dale of the incident at the pancake house, and the way in which Rocky had reacted to the drunk. He shivered at the memory.

"No. No guns," he replied softly.

"Well, how about a baseball bat?" Julie quipped.

"How about a squad of Marines?" Dale responded.

"That’s a great idea, honey, except who’s going to protect you from the Marines?"

Dale gave her a sour look. "Let’s get going," he suggested.

____________________

Dale parked well away from the mall entrance to protect his new "baby," despite Julie’s good-natured grumbling. Since it was a Saturday morning the mall was packed, and Dale hadn’t realized just how far they were from the entrance, but he enjoyed the walk anyway. He had gotten used to working eight-hour shifts in high heels, and he had also come to appreciate the unique sensation of his nylons brushing together and moving beneath his skirt. Still, the tight skirt and heels hobbled his stride, and their progress towards the entrance was slow.

When they were about a half-block from the doors Julie suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Robin! Look!" She exclaimed and pointed off to one side.

Dale glanced in the direction she was pointing -- and groaned loudly. A few hundred feet away, near one of the busiest intersections in the area, stood a huge, elevated billboard displaying yet another of his "Sweet Shot" photos. The display was huge, and in this one Dale was standing, facing the camera with one hip thrust out and his arms crossed beneath his breasts. "Take your best shot at MY Sweet Shot!" The sign proclaimed.

Everyone for miles around would see that billboard, and Dale KNEW it couldn’t be the only one.

"Let’s just leave," he groaned.

"Not on your life," Julie replied with a twinkle in her eyes. "I’ve never known a real celebrity! Besides, We’re supposed to meet Gail and Colleen, and you still have to get a dress for my wedding."

Dale sighed. "All right," he agreed, resigned to his fate. He just knew someone in the mall would recognize him from the billboard or one of the other ads, and his mind began working on the problem. In the meantime, he opened his purse and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

Julie giggled when Dale put the glasses on. "Sweetie, I don’t think those will help much -- Very few people notice your eyes when they see you in those pictures."

Dale shot another sour look at his friend and wished he’d worn jeans and a tee shirt instead of the outfit he had on.

They met Gail and Colleen near the center of the mall, at a modernistic bronze sculpture, where the four main concourses converged. After hugs all around they set off for the Clothes Closet, which was fast becoming Dale’s favorite place to shop, in search of a dress for Dale. They walked four abreast, chatting merrily as they made their way down the mall.

Julie felt a little out of place among the taller, well-endowed "Boomer’s Girls," but in truth she did not look out of place. She had chosen to wear her highest heels in anticipation of being dwarfed by the other girls, and her own figure was not too bad, either. She was still a couple of inches shorter than the others, but they made quite a sight as they sashayed down the concourse. More than a few heads turned as they passed, and a group of teenage boys stopped in their tracks and stared shamelessly at the four beautiful women. The girls had almost made it into the store when one of the boys exclaimed, "Hey! That’s Miss Sweet Shot!"

"Damn!" Dale muttered under his breath and hurried into the store like a frightened rabbit.

Colleen and Gail already knew all about "Robin’s" new career, and they laughed at Dale’s terrified reaction.

Then, one of the other boys blurted out, "They’re all so beautiful!"

Hearing that, Colleen looked back at the boys over her shoulder and gave them a sexy smile and a wink before following the others into the store.

When the other girls caught up to Dale he was near the rear of the store, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible in the lingerie section. Julie giggled to herself and smiled when she realized Dale had instinctively taken refuge in the one section of the store most men would be embarrassed to enter. It said a lot about his new mindset, and how far he had come since his gender switch.

After the others calmed Dale they all moved over to the dress department and began examining the new spring fashions. Everyone but Julie needed a new dress for the wedding -- Julie’s bridal gown was already undergoing its final alterations -- so the prospective bride helped the others, holding their purses and offering comments as they tried on various outfits. While Dale was in the changing rooms Julie discovered a darling little sundress she just knew would look great on him, and when he emerged from the dressing room she led him over to the rack to show him her find.

Dale liked the dress and took it to the changing room, and when he came out to show the others they loved the way it looked on him. The light sundress had a halter top, with a bodice that dropped just far enough to show a respectable amount of cleavage, and its form-hugging waist flared out into a wide and full, but fairly short skirt that swirled when he turned and danced against his thighs in a most feminine manner when he walked over to the mirror.

"That dress is perfect for you," Gail remarked enthusiastically.

"It’s lovely," Colleen agreed, but you need to lose the black bra."

"It IS perfect," Julie concurred, "but you’ll need shoes to go with it.

"And earrings," Colleen added.

Twenty minutes later Dale tried the dress again, this time without his bra, and with the addition of a pair of white, wedge-heeled sandals.

"I love that look! Those shoes go really good with that dress!" Julie told her friend.

"Do you have a white purse to go with that outfit?" Gail asked.

"Sure," Dale nodded. "I have a small shoulder bag that should work with this."

While the other girls finished their shopping Dale found some inexpensive jewelry, including a pair of cute little daisy earrings and a matching, segmented bracelet. The jewelry looked like it was made for the dress, and Dale was in the process of congratulating himself on his smart purchases when he noticed a larger than usual crowd just outside the entrance to the store. A second glance at the throng of people revealed that it was almost entirely males -- teenagers -- and Dale wondered why a bunch of adolescent boys would gather outside a women’s clothing store.

The answer to that question was not long in coming. As Dale made his way to the cashier one of the boys shouted, "There she is!" Which was immediately followed by cries of "Wow!" and "Cool!"

In that instant Dale realized that the boys who noticed him as he entered the store had spread the word throughout the mall, and now every teenage boy in the place -- as well as a few older males -- was outside the store, waiting for "Miss Sweet Shot" to come out.

"Ohmigod!" Dale gasped as he looked about for a way to escape.

But there was no way to get around the men and boys without being seen. Dale retreated back into the store in a panic.

"It’s time to call those Marines!" He called to Julie as he ran back into the lingerie department.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

Julie glanced up as she produced her credit card to cover a couple of small purchases, and looked at Dale as he sped by. She looked towards the entrance to see what the problem was, and uttered a very un-ladylike, "Oh, SHIT!"

Julie hurried back to the lingerie department -- she just knew Dale would be in there -- and dragged Colleen and Gail with her. They found a terrified young woman who looked like a deer caught in headlights, and it took several minutes before Dale quit shaking. At that point Gail sent Julie to find the store manager, explain the situation, and find out if there was a rear entrance they could use. When Julie hurried off Gail took out her cell phone and asked Dale for his home phone number. Dale managed to give it to her, and when "Jim" answered she quickly filled him in on what had happened.

"Stay right there," he told her. "I’ll get some help for you."

"Okay, but hurry," Gail told him.

Julie returned with the store manager, a balding, middle-aged guy in a pinstriped suit. "Girls, this is Mr. Thomas, the manager, and he says there’s no back way out," she explained.

"Ah, that’s right," the manager confirmed in a high nasal voice. "The mall was built with security in mind. We take all our deliveries through the entrance, after hours."

"Just great!" Dale groused. "How am I going to get through that mob in one piece?"

"Hey, stay cool," Gail told him. "I called Jim and he said to sit tight. I think he’s going to try to rescue us."

Dale sighed. That was all he needed. Now he had to be rescued by his own wife! What other indignities would he have to endure?

____________________

Sandy showed up about twenty minutes later, but she wasn’t alone. Rocky was with her, as well as two huge guys in dark suits wearing dark glasses. It was obvious that the two worked for Rocky, and Dale didn’t even want to speculate how they earned their pay. The four men walked straight back to where the girls were huddled, and Rocky took charge of the situation.

"Hi babe," he nodded at Dale. "Okay girls, this is what we’re gonna do. . ."

Five minutes later the girls had paid for their purchases and Rocky’s two goons led the way out of the store, with Sandy following, holding Dale’s arm. Rocky and the other girls brought up the rear. The crowd of boys parted easily, intimidated by the glares of the two muscle men, and the way was aided by several of the mall security guards who helped clear a path to the nearest exit. Dale was terrified as he passed through the crowd of men, and he thought he could almost smell the testosterone in the air. He clung to Sandy and kept his eyes lowered as they made their way to the doors.

When they opened the doors Dale saw a long, black limo parked right in at the curb, and the two "bodyguards" opened the doors and waited while everyone piled in.

"What about my car?" Dale asked as he slid into the roomy limo.

"Give me the keys, doll," Rocky ordered, and Dale opened his purse and handed them over.

Rocky turned to the guy in the front passenger seat. "Tommy, we’ll drive over to the dame’s car. I want you to follow us to the club."

Rocky then had Dale tell the driver where he had left his own car, and the big limo pulled up alongside. Tommy hopped out of the car and got into Dale’s baby, adjusting the seat way back before he signaled he was ready, and the mini-caravan set off for the "club," whatever that was.

The club turned out to be a place called the "Old World Benevolent Association," and it was located in a rough, immigrant neighborhood that bordered the much nicer downtown business district. Old, three story apartment buildings and two story frame houses competed with corner bars, pawnshops, tattoo parlors, and ethnic meat markets for space on the narrow street. Dirty street urchins and aging alcoholics mingled with men carrying lunch pails and women shepherding broods of children, and Dale was astounded at the sight. It was a scene right out of the 30s or 40s, or even an earlier era. The squalor was appalling, yet there was undeniable vibrancy to the neighborhood that he found fascinating.

Rocky’s henchman double-parked the limo, and then ran to open the door for his boss. When Rocky exited the car he spoke to the man driving Dale’s car in a language Dale did not recognize, and the man sped off. The last Dale saw of his car it was turning the corner a block away.

"Where is he taking my car?" He asked nervously.

"Not to worry, doll. He’s gonna park it where it’ll be safe," Rocky replied, patting Dale’s hand condescendingly.

At that point Rocky turned and strode towards the Benevolent Association’s old-fashioned double glass doors like he owned the place. A workman in bib overalls who was washing the glass opened one of the doors and actually tipped his cap as Rocky approached. He was rewarded with a smile and a quick handshake as Rocky entered the building.

The rest of the group followed Rocky -- It seemed the thing to do -- And found themselves in a cramped lobby, feeling as if they had stepped into a time machine.

If Dale thought the neighborhood was seedy, he realized it was nothing compared to the interior of the Old World Benevolent Association. Directly opposite the doors was a high counter that looked like it had been filched from a turn-of-the-century hotel, complete with a metal bar "cage" and several dozen pigeonholes against the wall, some of which contained mail. Flanking the counter were two wide, wooden staircases leading to the upper floors, while to their left was an old-fashioned restaurant, complete with a lunch counter, chrome tables and chrome chairs with red vinyl seats. A tired ceiling fan hung from the patterned, tin ceiling, turning slowly, and the floor was composed of small, black and white octagonal tiles.

To their right was the entrance to a bar, and Dale glimpsed an old-fashioned mahogany bar with a brass rail, brass cuspidors, and an ornately carved back that held a myriad of bottles and featured several curved mirrors. Green glass lights and pictures of scantily clad women appeared to dominate the decor.

Rocky gestured for the men in the party to proceed to the bar, but when Dale tried to follow Rocky stopped him and pointed to a sign over the entrance that read, "Stag Bar."

"I’m sorry babe, but dis is a men’s club. No ladies allowed in the bar or up in the rooms. You girls go wait for us in the dining room and we’ll be along shortly. If you want anything just tell Eva you’re friends of Rocky."

Dale was stunned. A STAG BAR -- In this day and age? That HAD to be unconstitutional!

"But --" He began to protest, but the look on Rocky’s face stopped him cold.

"Okay," he relented with a sigh. Dale considered the possibility that no law, much less the constitution, applied in that place -- Except perhaps Rocky’s word.

The girls found a table that surprised Dale for its cleanliness, and they sat down to wait. Dale was incensed that the men were closeted in their inner-sanctum, discussing how to handle this new situation, while he was sitting in another room, awaiting their decision. Why shouldn’t he be included in the debate -- After all, it was his life they were discussing.

A few moments after they sat down an older woman wearing a white uniform set four glasses of water on the table and asked what they wanted. Since nobody was particularly hungry they all ordered coffee.

"Oh, Rocky said to tell you we’re friends of his," Dale told the waitress as she was leaving, and the woman’s demeanor seemed to brighten considerably. A minute later she returned with four antique coffee cups and a basket of fresh, hot rye rolls.

"I thought you girls might like to try these as a light snack," she explained with a maternal smile. "Now, those are right out of the oven, and here’s some butter to go with them," she added, setting everything on the table.

"Those smell wonderful!" Colleen told the waitress, and she smiled back the young girl. "It’s an old family recipe," she confided. "Enjoy."

"How sweet!" Julie remarked as the woman hustled off.

"Oh, they really are delicious!" Gail reported after nibbling at a roll.

"Look, before I forget, I want to apologize to all of you for getting us into this mess," Dale told the others.

"Don’t be silly -- I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!" Julie responded with a giggle.

"Me either," Colleen agreed.

"Besides, nobody got hurt, Gail noted.

____________________

About 40 minutes later Sandy, Rocky, and the twin giants entered the dining room. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum took up positions near the entrance and stood with their hands folded in front of them, while Rocky and Sandy approached their table.

Rocky grabbed a chair from another table and turned it so he was sitting on it backwards, with his arms crossed across the back. Meanwhile Dale looked up at Sandy, searching her eyes for a clue as to what had transpired, but her face was impassive, offering no hint to her feminized husband.

"Well, we got us an interesting situation here," Rocky pronounced, "and dis situation needs to be dealt wit properly."

"Can’t I just go home?" Dale asked.

Rocky smiled, and his face nearly cracked from straining long dormant muscles. "Sure doll, you can go home, but we gotta make some plans first."

"I don’t understand."

"Well, it’s like this: Our ad pitch with your pictures has been very good for business. Very good! In de last couple a days Frank has been so busy you’d tink he was givin’ away free booze -- and that’s just the start."

"The way I see it there’s gonna be a lot more of what jus’ happened, so we need to be ready. Now, I’m gonna provide a car and a driver so you can get around town without bein’ hassled --"

"But, I have a car," Dale interrupted, and then abruptly closed his mouth when Rocky held up his hand.

"I mean a real car -- A limo. You got an image now, and that’s important. Besides, my cars are, ah, sturdy, and Nick, the guy who’s gonna drive it, knows how to keep people away when you don’t want ‘em around."

Dale just stared at Rocky, realizing the man was talking about providing him with an (armored?) limousine and a driver/bodyguard. ‘Have those stupid pictures really made that much of a difference?’ He wondered.

"Oh. One other thing," Rocky continued. "Your husband thinks, and I agree, that you need another chick er, girl, to keep you company when you’re out." At that point Rocky looked at the other girls.

"If any of you ladies is interested, I, my company that is, would hire you to assist Robin when she’s gotta go to one of our places, or shopping, or just the usual . . . girl stuff." He said seriously.

"I can’t," Julie replied. "I’m getting married soon."

"Me either," Gail responded. "I run the floor at Boomer’s. Sal, er, Mr. Jacobs, needs me."

"I can respect that," Rocky told her. "I know Sal. Good man.

"What about youse, sweetie?" Rocky asked Colleen.

Colleen looked undecided. "Well, I don’t know. I’m a waitress at Boomer’s too."

"Look, I’ll double whatever you make there," Rocky told her.

"Double?" Colleen repeated in a shocked voice.

"Yeah, no sweat, honey," Rocky replied. "And I’ll throw in some other perks too. You won’t be sorry. Rocky takes good care of his people."

"Well, can I think it over for a day or so?" She asked.

"Yeah, sure, honey. Here’s my card. You call this number anytime and someone will get the word to me," Rocky told her, handing her a plain white business card with just his name and phone number.

Finally, Dale’s curiosity got the better of him. "Rocky, if you don’t mind my asking, why are you taking such an interest in this -- me? I thought you were just an investor in Frank’s business?"

Rocky chuckled, and once again his face looked like it would split right open. "Doll, you remember that personal services contract you signed with Frank?" He asked, and Dale nodded, getting a bad feeling.

"Well I bought the contract, with your husband’s consent, of course. So, aside from the stuff you do for Frank you’re gonna help me promote some other things. That bein’ the case, I’m gonna make sure my people take real good care of you."

Dale was outraged. "What do you mean with HIS consent?" He demanded. "What about MY consent? Nobody has asked ME if I want to . . . do whatever it is you have in mind. This is ridiculous!"

Rocky glanced over to Sandy, and then turned back to Dale. "These things are best settled between men," he told the sputtering female, "and you should show more respect for your husband, ‘specially in public. It ain't right for a girl to show such disrespect."

Dale was furious, but the look in Rocky’s eyes and his quiet tone of voice made him pause. He decided it would not be a good idea to get this man upset, even a little, so he remained silent, vowing to have it out with Sandy later.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

"I don’t believe you went along with this!" Dale screamed at Sandy when they finally returned to the cottage. What gives you the right to make decisions like that without consulting me?" He demanded.

"Robin -- Dale! Calm down will you, and I’ll explain."

"I will NOT calm down!" Dale yelled. "I feel like a piece of meat, or some commodity. Well, I’m a human being and I will NOT go along with any of this! You think you can do this to me because of all the other humili --"

Dale screamed as Sandy suddenly picked him, sat on the couch, and turned him over her knee. The feminized man yelped in pain as his wife proceeded to paddle his bottom until it was terribly sore and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Even after Sandy stopped, Dale could only lay there and cry, until she picked him up and placed him back on his feet, tottering in his high heels.

"Hysterical females!" Sandy muttered. "Are you ready to listen now?" She demanded.

Dale stared up at his masculinized spouse, his expression a mixture pain, humiliation, and fear. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak.

"Okay. This is what happened," Sandy began. "In case you haven’t figured it out yet, our ‘friend’ Rocky is a very dangerous man."

Dale nodded.

"Well, It turns out that he’s ‘involved’ with quite a few businesses, and when the new advertising campaign for the Sweet Shot took off like it did -- and by the way their business has more than tripled -- Rocky decided you could be of help to some of his other enterprises. I wasn’t exactly in a position to say ‘no’ either, since the only ones sitting at his private table in the bar were Rocky, his two goons, and I.

"It also turns out that one of the papers you signed was a sort of power of attorney, naming me as your ‘agent,’ so I couldn’t use the excuse that I didn’t have the authority -- I tried.

"Anyway, Rocky was determined to buy your contract from Frank, and he called Frank’s office and browbeat the guy until he agreed to sell the contract to Rocky, provided you would honor your commitments to the Sweet Shot, and also provided he could use your likeness on some new signs he’s having made up for his various locations. I tried to object, and I told them that this was a whole new deal involving a lot more than the original contract. He just looked at me and whispered something to one of his goons, and the guy got up and went upstairs for a few minutes. When he came down he gave me this.

Have you ever seen a cashier’s check for a quarter million dollars?" Sandy asked as she fished the check out of her wallet and showed it to Dale.

The former man was stunned, and he leaned forward to stare at the paper Sandy held in her hands. "Is it real?" He asked in a small voice, afraid to even touch the check.

Sandy shrugged. "I don’t know," she admitted, "but I was not about to call the bank to verify its authenticity. That would have been ‘disrespectful,’ and he has a real hang-up about that."

"So I’ve noticed," Dale replied, rubbing his sore butt.

"Yeah, well anyway, this is in ADDITION to the original payments you’ll be getting, and he’s throwing in the use of the limo, and the, ah, ‘driver.’ If I had to guess I’d say the check is real."

"Damn! What am I going to do now?" Dale asked helplessly.

Sandy took a deep breath. "Look, I don’t like this any more than you, but I don’t see that we -- you -- have much of a choice. This guy is used to getting what he wants, and I’d rather not think about what might happen if we cross him. Besides, the pay is pretty good," she added, waving the check.

Just then the phone rang and Dale went over and picked it up, still preoccupied with the discussion. "Langdon residence," he said without thinking. After listening for a few seconds he handed the phone to Sandy. "It’s for you," he told her, and then walked over to the sliding glass doors as Sandy began speaking.

Dale stared out at the placid lake and noticed that the trees were now fully leafed, though their leaves still had that lighter hue he had always associated with spring. Time seemed to be passing quickly, and Dale felt his life was slipping further and further beyond his control. After everything that had happened to him, now he found himself under contract -- in effect "owned" -- by a mobster who acted like a throwback to Al Capone.

"Robin, it’s Nick, your driver. Did you want to use the car tomorrow?" Sandy asked, covering the mouthpiece.

"What? Oh, no. I don’t’ think so," Dale replied in a distracted manner.

 

Sandy relayed the message into the phone and Dale turned back to the beautiful scenery outside the cabin. He wasn’t aware that Sandy was off the phone until she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.

Dale shrugged his shoulders and moved closer to the door, away from Sandy.

"What’s the matter, babe?" His wife asked.

"What’s the matter?" Dale retorted. "Well, aside from the fact that I’m under contract to a mobster, you just spanked me!" He reminded her.

Sandy chuckled and moved closer again, leaving Dale practically pinned to the glass doors. He turned away petulantly and crossed his arms beneath his breasts.

"You were just a little hysterical at the time," Sandy replied defensively.

"Well, you didn’t have to spank me," Dale responded angrily. "I never did that to you!"

"True," Sandy replied, "but you wouldn’t listen to me at the time. Frankly, you needed a good spanking."

Dale turned on her in a flash. "I NEEDED a -- Well, of all the nerve!" He shouted angrily.

"Yeah, you did," Sandy insisted. "You were acting irrationally, and you refused to listen to me until I took things in hand, so to speak," she added with another chuckle.

"Well, I’m glad you find it amusing, but I don’t!" Dale announced.

"Good! Then maybe you’ll listen to reason from now on instead of acting like an hysterical female."

"Hysterical female!" Dale gasped and turned to face Sandy. "That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard! You should be ashamed --" He stopped cold when he saw the knowing look on Sandy’s face. In an instant he realized that Sandy had said that on purpose, to get his goat, and he’s fallen for it completely. Then it struck him that He was berating HER for being a sexist pig, and he started to laugh; only it came out as a very feminine giggle.

"Now this is a real switch," Sandy remarked as she placed her hands on Dale’s shoulders again and tried to draw him to her. But Dale wasn’t ready for that. He turned to face the glass door again and pretended to be angry.

But the pretense was short-lived. Sandy came up behind him and began to knead his shoulders gently, and it felt so good Dale slumped back against her sturdy frame, letting her hands roam across his torso. In moments Sandy’s fingers were loosening the buttons of his blouse, and Dale did not resist when she slid it down off his shoulders.

"Hmm, nice bra," Sandy remarked upon seeing his lacy black decollete, "but I’ll bet it’s starting to get uncomfortable."

As she spoke she reached behind his back and unhooked the band, then slid the straps gently off his shoulders, and Dale shivered from her touch. Her hands felt wonderful, and when she gently toyed with his nipples they grew hard and erect, and Dale sighed softly and pressed against her harder. He was still a little mad at her, but Sandy always knew just what to do, what he really enjoyed, and he rapidly forgot about their little spat. When she picked him up and carried him to their bedroom he slipped his arms around her neck and cuddled against her muscular chest and enjoyed the ride.

Somehow Sandy managed to remove his skirt between the time she picked him up and time she laid him on their bed. Dale never figured out how she did it, but he didn’t care either. When she placed him down on the clean sheets he wiggled out of his pantyhose and panties, and watched Sandy as she hurriedly undressed. He was still awed by her incredible physique, her broad shoulders, her muscular chest, and her six-pack abdomen, but the attribute that impressed her most was somewhat lower, and the mere sight of it caused his own center of gravity to grow moist. By the time she entered him Dale had forgotten all about mobsters and gangsters, and, and . . . Sandy had wonderful way to make him forget his problems . . .

To be continued . . .

 

 

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© 2001 by Julia Manchester. 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.