Working Title

by Cherysse St. Claire

©2004

 

As Max's parties went, this was pretty much the usual. He calls them "Meet and Greets". I call them "Novocaines". Of course, I would never tell Max that. It's just that they have this irritating tendency to deaden all my senses. My current lover has his own Los Angeles-based public relations firm with an A-list cast of corporate and entertainment industry clients. As Max's 'hostess', I rub elbows with some of the heaviest hitters in both genres and listen intently to stories about this deal or that project. Mind you, I am not entirely disinterested in what they have to say. Every once in a while, I pick up a tidbit that will do my own career in the entertainment industry some good. All of Max's guests are familiar with my work, of course - even if the mainstream does not embrace my particular 'niche'. I bet there are more of my DVDs in bedrooms across America than any of the A-listers.

I had been through good times and bad. Once, I had been a successful P.R. consultant myself, a partner in a smaller, but thriving agency. My participation in that business had evaporated even as my marriage had. In fact, it was because of the events that occurred towards the end of that union that both my career and the marriage itself had foundered. I lost everything, including my pride. I had to scramble then, do things I wouldn't have dreamt of doing before, just to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth.

Max had come into my life about that time. At first, he was a 'date' like the others - but there the resemblance ended. I never revealed my history to him and haven't to this day. I don't know why, really. He would probably find it amusing. True, he isn't exactly an All-American stud. That's all right with me; I get more than enough in my line of work. Still, he is an attractive man, generous of spirit, an understanding and compassionate lover and all-around nice guy - not to mention being filthy rich. And, he wanted me on more than just a random basis. He was exactly the person I needed at the time. I snatched him up before one of the other girls could sink her claws into him and have never looked back. He was and continues to be good to me and I reciprocate in full measure.

So, if I tend to be a little 'overdone' for Max's parties - the little next-to-nothing of a dress that reveals, rather than conceals, the stockings, sky-high heels, makeup, hair, and ultra-long siren's nails right out of one of my videos - who is to complain? Not me, certainly, or Max. His regular 'cast of characters' take it well, too. In fact, almost every one of them has taken it quite well - and dished it out, too.

I spied Gayle across the crowded room. She was putting the moves on what I imagined to be her Flavor of the Month. Actually, he was really good-looking. She was still the same attractive sable-eyed brunette beauty I remembered. It was inevitable Gayle would eventually show up at one of Max's parties. The two of them were in the same line of work - as competitors. That wouldn't keep her off Max's guest list. He doesn't hold grudges; with his annual billings, he doesn't need to. Max had spoken of her, saying her agency had been on life support since her husband/partner had suddenly walked out on her. The buzz around town was, the firm had lost its creative edge with his departure, was hemorrhaging clients - and that Gayle was only one good contract away from turning off the lights and calling it quits.

I was blonder now than the last time she had seen me. My lips were fuller and plusher, my nose smaller and turned up, my cheekbones much more prominent. My tits and ass were fuller, too; a lot fuller. Still, I could tell she recognized me immediately. There was a mixture of emotions in her expression, but shock shown most clearly. I merely smiled demurely and continued the conversation I was in, making no attempt to approach her.

Sometime later, between conversations, I sensed her behind me before she said a word. I would know that perfume anywhere.

"Hello Gayle," I cooed, then turned around to face her. "So lovely to see you again after all this time."

"Hello Len," she replied haltingly. "May we... talk?"

"It's Leanne now, Leanne Lewis. You know that. You named me. Or should I say, you re-named me?"

"Sorry... Leanne. I - I have a couple of your DVDs. You are really something else."

"My bank account thanks you and so do I," I purred.

"I just wanted to say you look... really good."

"Thank you again," I replied sincerely. "I feel good about myself, too. Better than I have felt in a long time."

"How do you know Max?", she inquired. I told her the truth - mostly.

"Oh, he's a fan. He invites me to these little soirees to act as 'hostess'. He has been helping me out in my career for almost a year."

"Almost a year," Gayle repeated thoughtfully. "A couple of months after you left.... When you walked out, disappeared like that, I was... worried about you. I was afraid something had happened to you."

I stepped closer to her and lowered my voice, making sure only she would be able to hear my words. I summoned up every once of venom I had been storing up for the last fourteen months, awaiting this very moment.

"Now listen up, Bitch. Something did happen to me. You happened to me. Your affair with - what is his name? Craig? - happened to me. Your subsequent guilt trip, which caused you to transform me into 'Leanne', happened to me. I went through that transformation so willingly because you convinced me you wanted that for us, to bring us closer together."

"I did want to bring us closer together," she pleaded.

"Don't even try to lay that lame claim on me," I retorted. "If it had been about 'us', 'us' would have been consulted about Craig. 'Us' would have had some input on your little peccadillo. 'Us' would have been leveled with from the start about your real reasons for wanting me to become a woman. 'Us' would have been treated like a human being, instead of first, a cuckold, then a Barbie Doll.

"You say it was about 'us', but in reality it was about you wanting me to understand a woman's desires first-hand, you wanting to take away my masculinity so I wouldn't be mad about you shacking up with Craig. It was about how good Craig's cock felt in your cunt, and how you wanted to revise our marriage vows to make you feel better about breaking them. It was about you assuming if I became a woman, I would feel the same way you did about needing 'stud service'."

"You didn't have to leave," Gayle countered. "We could have worked it out."

"Says YOU!", I parried. "Could 'we' have put me back the way I had been? Could 'we' have looked in the mirror and pretended the whole thing never happened? I loved you. I trusted you. You betrayed both. If our roles had been reversed, you would have been out the door like a speeding bullet, just as I was. You know why? WOMEN don't like to be betrayed, either! WOMEN don't like to be toyed with, the way you toyed with me. I hope your little indiscretion is good for you, Sweetheart. All it cost was our marriage and my manhood - factors that obviously didn't weigh heavily on your mind at the time."

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered beseechingly.

"Oh, please," I sneered, "do not lay that crap on me, either. How could you think what you did would not hurt me? I don't mean the physical discomfort of the transformation. I mean the betrayal itself, then finding out the reasons you gave for my transformation were nothing but lies. Answer: you were thinking with your 'little head', just like women accuse men of doing. Except it wasn't me doing the cheating, was it? In fact, I NEVER DID.

"As if that wasn't bad enough, you then filed your divorce papers and took away everything I had ever worked for, sweated blood to earn. That, more than anything else, told me everything I needed to know about what you felt for me."

"I couldn't share it with you," she railed. "I didn't know where to find you. I didn't know if you were dead or alive."

"You didn't know if I was dead or alive, yet you bought a couple of my DVDs. What did you think; I came back from the grave to mock you? You could have contacted me through the video company anytime. As to where I was, you didn't honestly expect me to tell you, did you? After what you had already done? And give you another shot at me? The really sad part is, if you had trusted me enough to tell me, I probably would have gone along with it. I loved you that much. I don't know if we would have stayed together, but at least we might not have had to go through all this.

"For the record, 'all this' isn't so bad anymore. In fact, I'm really enjoying it now. The work is easy, the money is great, and I get all the sex I want. By the way, I couldn't help but notice Craig isn't with you tonight. He wasn't... available?"

Her eyes blazed.

"Don't you get it? It was a fling. It was never meant to last. You were never supposed to find out."

I simply shook my head in amazement.

"You are a complete idiot," I intoned, "or the coldest, most uncaring, sadistic bitch on the planet. Pardon me for being an intelligent, observant human being who finally saw through your little scheme, caught you literally in the act in our bed and spoiled your Grand Design. If I was never supposed to find out, why were you so careless? Did the danger of me catching you make it that much more thrilling? Why couldn't you have just had your 'fling' with your 'real man' in some cheap motel and left it at that? Wouldn't that have been humiliation enough? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

"I like 'this' on you," she challenged. "'This' suits you much better than 'Len' did. I thought you made an attractive woman then and you are doubly so now. You weren't half the man Craig is."

Her gall astounded me.

"First, let me say thank you for the compliment – although, coming from you, it still feels like a slap in the face. Having said that, I wasn't 'half the man' of the man who fucked your brains out as long as it suited him, then dumped you like yesterday's trash? Oh yeah, that makes all kind of sense. After all, you and I had only been together since high school. We went to college together, started our business together, and built our home and life together. What's all that compared to 'Wham, Bam, thank you, Ma'am'? So, okay, you had your little 'fling' that cost us everything we were. Are you happy now? Are your life and business so much more fulfilling? Did you find it liberating, empowering to be 'suddenly single' - and completely alone? Or have your subsequent 'flings' been that rewarding?"

I didn't even wait for an answer. I had vented all my negative emotions at last. Now I really DID feel better. Wanting to drop the subject entirely, I nodded my head in the direction of her erstwhile companion.

"So, who's the new beefcake?"

Gayle's face brightened at that.

"His company just acquired a huge new defense contract. He wants to build a new public awareness; television ads, print ads, the works. This account could mean millions in billings. I have a lot riding on landing him."

I stifled a snort.

"Yes, I'm certain you want to 'land' him. He is exactly your type. Well, congratulations on getting him to attend the party with you."

I picked up on the hesitation in her eyes immediately.

"So, he isn't... with you," I surmised. "He just happens to be here because... Max is also courting him?"

Gayle's face flushed.

"Please don't tell anyone, especially Max. I have to get this account. If I don't, our company, our house...."

Your company, I wanted to correct her. Your house. You got both in the settlement when you charged ME with "Abandonment". Instead, I placed my hand softly on her cheek.

"Gayle honey, don't you worry about a thing. I won't tell a soul. You just go and have a good time. We'll chalk this one up to old time's sake."

 

 

"So, you are Leanne Lewis. May I say I am a big fan of yours?"

The baritone voice announced his presence behind me. I turned to look... up, even perched as I was on my skyscraper stilettos. The timing was just too coincidental. It was as if he had just been waiting for Gayle to leave my side – no doubt to go off in search of him. He was an impressive hunk of beefcake. The bulge in his pant leg was even more impressive.

"Yes, I can see that. A very big fan, by the look of things. And you would be...?"

"Tom Stoddard, of Stoddard Aerospace Systems. Max told me I should come over and introduce myself. I'm surprised he didn't do it himself. If you were my girl, I would keep a closer eye on you."

I smiled my thousand-watt smile, winked, slipped my arm through his and pulled his body tightly next to mine.

"If I were your girl, you wouldn't have to. Walk with me, Tom Stoddard of Stoddard Aerospace Systems. So, what brings you to Max's party?"

"Oh, the usual. I need to give my company a P.R. 'facelift', now that we're in The Game with the Big Boys. 'It takes money to make money,' and all that. Max invited me over to discuss his proposal. Funny, he hasn't said word one about it. Instead, I've been hit on all night by this woman from a competing firm. She has been really persistent about it, too. I had to find some way to ditch her to come introduce myself to you. I hope she doesn't wait too long for me to bring that next round of drinks."

I giggled at that and pressed the side of my face into his rock-solid bicep.

"May I offer my personal thanks for your persistence? It seems to me there must be something I can do to express my appreciation."

I casually raked his arm with my crimson talons. The sudden pulse in the fabric of his pant leg told me what 'something' he had in mind, which was fine with me. For the moment, Tom chose a less direct tactic.

"Max tells me you are working on a new project. Does it have a title yet?"

I giggled again and squeezed his hand.

"Bless his heart, Max does wax enthusiastic about my little cinematic endeavors. As a matter of fact, I am working on a new project. It has only a working title so far: 'Leanne Does Defense'." It's gonna be a tribute to the 'Arsenal of Democracy' - those proud men and women who labor so... hard to create the... weapons that keep America strong and free."

Tom grinned.

"That sounds very... patriotic."

I smiled coyly and squeezed his inner thigh with my free hand.

"Oh, Honey, it is Mom, Apple Pie, and the Fourth of July, all rolled into one. It gives me chills just thinking about getting into it - or, should I say it getting into me."

By that time, we had reached the door of the bedroom Max has me use for 'entertaining'. I had left the door slightly ajar. I deftly unzipped Tom's pants and eased him out of his cloth prison. I am generally pretty adept at not putting my foot in my mouth. Someone else's foot-long is another proposition altogether. I pushed the door open with my full, rounded tush while dragging Tom in with me by his turgid tool.

I was kneeling before him in seconds, slipping his belt and unhooking the final fastener on his pants. They were at his ankles in a flash, followed by his briefs (I hate boxers; I was liking this guy more and more all the time). I started with one long, languid, leisurely lick the length of his love lever, from his bull balls all the way to the tip. No lollipop ever crafted by Man could ever hope to equal the appeal of this confection. I traced little arcs around his shaft with my double-pierced tongue. The twin barbells caused him to shiver as they caressed his sensitive skin. At the same time, the talons of my right hand were lightly caressing his supersized ball sac.

After a goodly number of minutes of this exquisite torture, I positioned my parted lips at the helmet of his magnificent member, sighed, and impaled my mouth on his shaft. His rigid rod snaked down my throat like a huge boa, writhing in ecstasy inside my oral passage. I gazed up into his eyes so adoringly, even as my nose nested in his wiry pubic patch. He tasted so good and I was so horny!

Tom obliged me by peeling down the bustier top of my stretch spandex microdress and flicking my nipple rings. Each time he did, he sent a jolt through my rock-hard nipples, into my big, bouncy breasts, down my spine and right to my pussy. While I massaged his bull balls with my right hand, I flicked my clitoral ring with my left. I felt his scrotal sac tighten and his helmet and shaft swell even as my own little earthquake rumbled to life deep within me. My passion erupted as his gushed down my throat and into my tummy.

I was nowhere near done with this marvelous mass of manflesh, nor he with me. He scooped me up as if I were a mere playtoy and flung me onto the bed. I'm certain it was his intention to climb on top of me and grind me into the mattress, but I had other ideas. I maneuvered him on his back with his head towards the foot of the bed. His magnificent steed stood straight up, daring me to climb into the saddle. I accepted the challenge with alacrity, stuffing the stallion in my snatch with a sigh. I sank down, and down, and down. The surgeon had promised me I would be able to accommodate twelve inches. At long last, it was time to put his vow to the test.

One of the reasons Max adores having me around is his professed love for "screamers". I mentally vowed to dedicate this 'song' to everyone in a six-block radius, then set out to make that vow a reality.

"OhmydearsweetfuckingJesusMaryandJosephthiswonderfulinsatiablehunkofa fuckingmachineisgonnablowmyfuckingbrainsrightthroughthetopofmyfucking skullandIamfuckingLOVINGIT!!!!"

The very air around me vibrated with the force of my shrieks and moans. The danglies of the crystal chandelier in the high-vaulted ceiling tinkled ominously as my Richter-scale vocalizations assaulted them.

I had positioned Tom on the bed very carefully, facing away from the door. I hadn't known how he would have felt about having an audience and didn't want to spoil the moment for him. These salacious little tete á tete's were a high point of Max's parties and all of Max's regular guests relished them. For that matter, most had participated at one time or another.

They were gathered in the doorway now, sipping their drinks and silently ogling while Tom and I did the nastiest of 'nasties' it had ever been my pleasure to enjoy. Max was there, of course, grinning evilly from ear to ear. Max loved to watch, always had. I, in turn, adored putting on a show for him. Next to Max, mouth agape, was a very stunned Gayle. I am not really certain what had astonished her most: that I had stolen her 'hot prospect' (yeah, Baby, was he ever!) out from under her, the sheer magnitude of Tom's magnificent member, or that I was able to accommodate every luscious inch so easily. I stared directly into her eyes, grinning like an idiot and screaming my head off, while her hoped-for 'meal ticket' fucked me stupid.

When he came, I thought he was going to blow me right to Mars. The sheer force of his repeated explosions made me hang on for dear life. That did it for me, as well. My eyes rolled up into my head and I emitted one last, lingering shriek that started low and climbed steadily in pitch and intensity, until it shook the walls and cracked the vanity table's mirror. My whole body spasmed violently, melding seamlessly into Tom's own convulsions.

By the time I came to my senses, the crowd had already begun to silently disperse. Tom had passed out from his violent climax. Max remained, grinning as I had been a few short moments before. We shared a wink. There had been nothing at all random about my coupling with Tom. He had been my intended 'target' all night. If he hadn't sought me out, I would have found some way to gracefully extricate him from Gayle's clutches – and let raging hormones do the rest. Max and I both knew Tom's signature on the contract was a mere formality at this point; a few choice words in the sated stud's ear and the 'deal' would be done. I was good at that, too. Max had spared no expense transforming me into his ultimate 'closer'. For my part, I had never disappointed him, nor ever would; the commissions were too damn good. Gayle was nowhere to be seen. I suspected she had had a 'hot date' of her own - to go apartment and/or job hunting.

Chalk this one up to old time's sake, Sweetheart. Choke on it!

  

  

  

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