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Becoming Barbara by Barbara 1. Peter. Peter Briston sat at his TV watching another episode of Star Trek. "Those guys are all a bunch of sentimental incompetents," he thought. "All of the Star Fleet officers I know are tough cookies. With long voyages and unknown hazards, they have to be. You think about the mission and the ship and not the individual crew member. You don't endanger the whole ship just to pluck Picard out of a tough spot." Peter was also dismayed at the way they constantly broke the Prime Directive: No interference with alien cultures. If Peter had engaged in just one of their silly shenanigans, he would have been punished severely. "Well, that's Hollywood." "Peter" was not Peter's real name. His real name was unpronounceable to a human. Peter was from the real Federation of Planets, and he was on Earth under what could loosely be described as a "research fellowship." His body had undergone reversible genetic engineering to give him a human form. Any human physician would have seen only a human being. Peter was living in a small home in semirural Minnesota, not far from the Twin Cities. As an exobiologist specializing in sentient life forms, he observed Earth people. His research would help the Federation determine whether it wanted to make contact with this backwater planet or whether it should destroy it as a nuisance to other life forms. To cover his activities, Peter had hung out a shingle that said "Spiritual Counseling." It gave him an opportunity to observe a few humans very closely and to investigate how they thought, if they thought at all. He also collected a few dollars from his practice which allowed him to pay the taxes on the home and to pay for the subscriptions to several magazines he read as part of his studies. The rest of his supplies were delivered by a Federation shuttlecraft carefully disguised to look like a full size Chevy van that pulled up to his home once a month on rubber tires. Peter began to watch the evening news. If his studies had not compelled him to follow all human events, he would have ignored it. He was repulsed by the barbaric behavior of many humans. His society had progressed beyond all of the wars, murders, political bickering, greed, theft and assorted violence that played out on the TV screen each night. "Testosterone will be the death of these creatures. The male of the species controls human activity, and most males, especially males in positions of political power, have their brains in their testicles." That is not to say that Peter had not developed a few close friendships with humans. He had grown especially fond of Cathy Woodbridge who lived on a neighboring farm. She was in her late twenty's, and Peter had seen her mature from a young girl of 10 to her present state. It was an interesting scientific study of an individual and had led to a close personal friendship. To Cathy, Peter was a second father. Peter had not seen Cathy for several weeks when she dropped in unexpectedly one day in the late winter. "Just checking up on you, Peter. I haven't seen you around in a while." "Cathy, it's me that hasn't seen you. Where have you been?" Peter could tell she was upset. He could also tell she was not as upset as she had probably been a day or two earlier. She had all of the signs of recovering from a traumatic psychological experience. "Come in. Let's talk about the first thing that comes to mind." It didn't take long for Cathy to unload her troubles. Peter had known she was seeing a young man, Sam Hollin, and that Cathy was serious about him. Sam had gone through a long courtship with Cathy. They had taken a secluded weekend together, and Cathy thought she would get a ring from Sam. Instead, after two days of passionate lovemaking, Sam left and never called her again. That was several weeks ago, and Sam was on at least his second post- Cathy girlfriend. "He could at least have written a letter that said, 'Nice fuck, Cathy, but after I loosened you up a little, I wanted to see if I could find someone else with a tighter box,'" she finally blurted out amidst a torrent of tears and sobs. Peter was distressed to see his friend in such a turmoil. His observations had told him that human females preferred long stable relationships and that many of them, like Cathy, withheld intimate sexual contact until that relationship had been formed. For Cathy to have give her sexual favors to Sam without receiving the solemnization of marriage in return could produce long term mental problems. On his home world, Sam would have treated Cathy using advanced technology. In Minnesota, that would have violated the Prime Directive. Peter talked and listened. He talked and listened for several weeks as Cathy regained her composure and self-confidence, and he began to form an opinion of Sam Hollin. This man had too much testosterone. Several weeks after his first session with Cathy, Peter got a phone call from Gretchen Schide, another young woman in the locality. She said Cathy had referred her and asked for an appointment for some counseling. Gretchen's story was almost a repeat of Cathy's except that Gretchen had not invested as much emotional capital in Sam as Cathy had. After another month or so, Peter was counseling four of Sam's castoffs, all of them referred by Cathy or Gretchen. Sam was spreading an epidemic of mental depression among the young women of the area with his wandering erection. "Find them, Fuck them and Forget them," was actually being practiced. Prime Directive or not, Peter thought he had to act to protect his neighbors. 2. Sam. Sam Hollin had been the star player on the high school football team. He had also been one of the better players on his college football team. He was too small to play in the pro's, and he knew it when he started college. He had not wasted his athletic scholarship on a Physical Education degree. Sam was a smart guy and not your average dumb jock. He had studied finance and now had his stockbrokers license. He was making good money and driving his red BMW. Sam was also a good salesman. He had a way with people, especially with women, and he had known it from an early age. He was good at selling stocks, and he was good at getting what he wanted from women. He sold stocks as quickly as the offerings came across his desk. He got laid whenever he wanted it. During his high school and college days, the women had come looking for him. He had almost posted a sign on his door asking the girls to take a number. When the celebrity of football passed, Sam had to use his charm, which was considerable, and his salesmanship. He had to work for it a little bit now. Sam avoided emotional entanglements. He just wanted some sexual satisfaction on a regular basis and the thrill of the chase. Once he had penetrated a woman, he lost interest. If that was emotionally troubling to her, it was her problem. She should not have let him bed her without a marriage license. Only once, with Cathy Woodbridge, did he come close to making an arrangement permanent. Happily, in his own mind, he had overcome that weakness and was again mining new, virgin territory, so to speak. Sam's one passion other than women and money was wilderness hiking. He would take off for a week and sometimes two to tramp through the backwoods somewhere far away from civilization. He had made an appointment with High Mountain Tours to take a five day hike through the High Sierras in June. The date of the hike was fast approaching, and Sam looked forward to the adventure. He would fly into San Francisco on Saturday, stay there Saturday night and take the tour company's van into the Sierra's late Sunday morning. After five days in the mountains, he would return to San Francisco the next Saturday and fly back to Minnesota on Sunday. When departure day came, Same checked his bags at the ticket counter and boarded the plane. He sat down next to a man reading a brochure for High Mountain Tours. "Are you going on the Sierra hike with High Mountain?" he asked. "Yeah, it sounds great. You're going too?" came the response. "Yes, I'm Sam Hollin." "Peter, Peter Briston." 3. Becoming Barbara The two men talked about hiking, football, stocks, and politics. Sam thought they hit it off quite well. They exchanged the addresses of their hotels, and Peter invited Sam up to his room after they had checked in to see some of his equipment. Sam had dinner after arriving at the hotel and then asked for directions to Peter's hotel. Shortly after 7 o'clock, Peter heard a knock on his door and let Sam in. The bedspread had been thrown back and there was a large vinyl mat on the bed that was connected by a few wires and hoses to a small box on the floor. Looking at the contraption Sam asked, "What's that? You're not taking it with you on the hike, are you?" "Oh, no. I built this thing myself based on some theories I have about relaxation. After a long trip, I'm usually pretty tense, and I find it difficult to sleep. If I don't sleep, I'm a wreck the next day . Tension is a problem in the mind, and the machine uses magnetic waves to concentrate brain wave patterns on peaceful subjects. The mind relaxes, and I sleep like a baby. You ought to try it, just for a minute. Even a minute will have a small effect." Sam was reluctant, but finally laid down on the mat after some gentle coaxing from Peter. He fell unconscious immediately. Peter's plan was working to perfection. Peter drew a small blood sample, singled out one cell and located the gene in the cell nucleus with the XY chromosome. Using genetic engineering technology, he added genetic material to the Y chromosome so that it became an X chromosome. He placed the new gene in the genetic replicator which would produce a serum that he would inject into Sam. While the genetic replicator was at work, Peter disrobed Sam leaving Sam lying nude on the mat. He also hooked up several collection tubes to Sam's body cavities. There would be a significant loss of biomass in the process, which the body would secrete, not as the waste product of digestion, but as hydrocarbons and water. Peter had to collect all of it. If he ever reversed the process, the biomass would be used when the body gained mass. Peter took the serum and injected it into Sam. The serum would travel to every cell in Sam's body. The serum and the electromagnetic fields from the mat would cause every cell to replicate the new XX chromosome pattern. Every cell would then revert to an embryonic form and go through the same growth process that Sam had gone through to his present age except with the new genetic information. In the process, the body would take on the shape dictated by that new genetic information. The whole process took about eight hours, and Sam would sleep for another two hours after that. At the end of the process, Peter unhooked the tubes, packed everything up and left. When Sam woke, he felt a little different, a little lighter; and the blankets seemed to be piled up strangely on his chest. Someone's hair was covering his face: long light brown hair from some innocent lass just wanting an education Sam guessed. "That rascal Peter got me fixed up with a girl," he thought with amusement, "and I must have gotten so relaxed in that contraption of his that I can't remember it." Sam reached up with his right hand to brush the hair back. The hand responding to his commands was small and dainty with fair skin. It was connected by a delicate wrist to a smooth, hairless arm with little musculature. The nails on the hand were elegantly narrow and well curved. The hand continued to Sam's head only to discover that the hair in his face was his and not someone else's. Sam began to get concerned. He was not one to panic, having been trained by years of playing football to keep a cool head in a tight situation, but his was a strange situation. He moved his left hand to his upper chest to discover what was tugging at his flesh. At the same time, his right hand pulled the blanket down so that he could see. There were two well-rounded breasts of adequate, though not spectacular, size resting right where a woman's breasts ought to be. They were sensitive to Sam's touch sending small waves of pleasure back to his brain as he played with each nipple. He pushed the blanket down further watching his hairless torso narrow as it approached his waist. His smooth skin then flared out as it passed over wide hip bones on either side of Sam's body. Looking for the ultimate test, Sam put his left hand between his legs. His hanging equipment was gone having been replaced by the familiar feel of the lips at the entrance to a woman's inner sanctum. He pushed one finger inside sending more pleasure waves throughout his body. "What the...," he started to say, stopping in mid-sentence when he heard a voice that was about an octave above his normal speaking voice. The phone rang. Sam put the receiver to his ear. "Sam, this is Peter...., " began the caller. "Peter, you no good bastard. What have you done?" A string of obscenities, invectives, slander and abuse began to tumble out of Sam's mouth. Peter simply hung up. Sam called the front desk. "Front desk, may I help you?" "Yes, please. This is..... Uh, never mind. I just found it." Who would Sam tell the front desk he was? If he said Sam Hollin, the clerk would laugh and say "Yes sir," with the emphasis on "sir." Besides, he was in Peter's room. What would a strange woman being doing in Peter's room naked. Going to the police was also out of the question. They would not believe he was really a guy named Sam Hollin. Sam got out of the bed and stared at the mirror. The attractive woman staring back at him could have been his twin sister. "It's a younger version of my mother," he stuttered. A quick inventory of the room revealed that its only contents were the woman's body Sam was now inhabiting and the hotel's furnishings. "This is impossible. This is scientifically impossible," he muttered. The phone rang again. It was Peter. "If you've calmed down, I'll come up and talk to you." "Come on up." "I'll be about 20 or 25 minutes. In the meantime take a shower. You've probably noticed an odd odor. And be sure to wash your hair." Sam did notice an odd odor. It was a byproduct of the reengineering process, but Sam did not know that at the time. He went to the bathroom and stood at the toilet to relieve himself. "This won't work," and he sat down. Sam took a quick shower experimenting with his new erogenous zones as he soaped down every part of his body. Once he was out of the shower, it took only a second or so for him to realize that he couldn't dry his long brown hair with a towel. Taking the built in hair dryer and a complimentary comb from the hotel, Sam dried his hair fluffing it out with the comb the way he had seen Cathy do it on their romantic weekend. And then he waited in the nude. There was a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole, Sam saw Peter with a bathrobe in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. Sam opened the door without undoing the chain. "Pass in the bathrobe." Peter complied being careful not to put his fingers in the jamb where Sam could crush them. Sam put on the robe but couldn't get the belt to come across the front of the robe. It dawned on him that the left flap had to go under the right flap. "Girl style," he thought and cinched the belt up snugly. He undid the chain to let Peter in. As Peter came in, Sam lunged at him hoping to knock him down, get a good hold somewhere and threaten Peter with his life if he didn't reverse whatever process had resulted in this transformation. Peter merely caught the small female body like a large medicine ball and then grabbed both of Sam's wrists. He placed both wrists in his left hand. Using all of his strength in both arms, Sam could not break Peter's single handed grip. He came to his next realization that strength would not decide the issue. He was the diminutive person in a woman's body with a woman's lack of strength. "What the h... have you done to me?" asked Sam attempting to sound belligerent but failing miserably because of his sweet voice. "I want, I want me back! You'll be in considerable trouble in about three hours when the tour company starts looking for me." "Sit down, Barbara. You don't mind if I call you Barbara, do you? Sam just doesn't seem to fit anymore." Sam sat down and glared. He didn't like the name, but he had no choice but to listen. Peter continued, "This process is completely reversible if you just listen to me and follow my instructions. And, I will get away with it if you don't follow my instructions, because no one will miss you for six days. I seem to have forgotten to make my own reservation with High Mountain, so I plan on using yours. I'll be Sam Hollin until Saturday, and you'll stay here as Barbara. And, I'm sure you've already determined that you can't go to the police. They won't believe you." Sam was in shock. "If I stay here for six days, what do I do? Walk around town in a bathrobe. I have to eat and stay somewhere. And why are you doing this to me?" "Let's see. What do you do? You're alone in a strange city with no money and no friends. You have no skills you can prove, the stockbroker's license belongs to some guy named Sam. It seems to me your mealticket is between your legs. Men will pay for that. You know, that's pretty much the same way you treated my good friend Cathy Woodbridge. You treated her as someone to use and throwaway" "What, you want me to be a whore for six days because I broke up with Cathy! I'll get killed out there on the streets," Sam pleaded. "I'll just stay in one of the missions until you return and change me back to my old self." "You didn't break up with Cathy, you got what you wanted from her and then discarded her, just like the johns on the streets discard the women they use. If you ever want to be Sam again, you'll listen to what I say." Peter explained that he had an old client in San Francisco, MaryAnn, who ran an employment agency for young ladies on the night shift. The service catered to upper crust clients who wanted evening companionship from educated women who could carry on an intelligent conversation. Peter had e-mailed MaryAnn about an anonymous client he was counseling. She was having difficulty breaking away from her conservative Minnesota family even though she was almost 30. The young woman had seen "Pretty Woman" and, in the ultimate act of rebellion, had determined to become a call girl in California. Peter couldn't stop her, but told MaryAnn that he would attempt to guide his client her way. He knew that MaryAnn worked hard to protect her associates. Because his client had a degree in finance and was a scintillating conversationalist, he thought she would merge easily into MaryAnn's operation. Best of all, Peter's e-mail said he was certain that his client had never had intimate relations with a man. Her domineering father had driven away every suitor. Even her college days seem to have been chaste. She often remarked that a man-eating tiger would have starved to death on her campus. "Here's MaryAnn's number, directions to her house by bus and bus fare. You call her now and tell her that you're the client I wrote to her about. I'll send her another e-mail before I leave to confirm that my client's name is Barbara. You'll need to cook up some story why you don't have any i.d. If MaryAnn reports that you were a good worker next Saturday, I'll reverse the process. If not, you can stay as you are. Oh, and don't worry about getting pregnant. You won't ovulate for another ten days" Sam knew he was dealing with a madman. What training he had in psychology told him that the safest way to deal with a madman is to humor him. Sam turned and made the call. A pleasant female voice answered the phone and Sam asked for MaryAnn. The voice identified herself as MaryAnn and Sam said, "My name is Barbara." He almost choked as he said it. "I believe Peter Briston has written to you about me. He said I could seek employment with you and that he would be sending you another e-mail to confirm my name." Sam heard the door close. He didn't have to look. He knew Peter was gone. MaryAnn said to come over when it was convenient, and Sam said he would be there as quickly as the Sunday bus could carry him. Sam forgot that he had no clothes and then remembered the shopping bag that Peter had brought in. The shopping bag was laying on the floor. Reaching in, Sam pulled out a bra, a pair of panties, a see-through blouse, a black skirt and a pair of women's athletic shoes. None of them appeared to have been an extravagant purchase. "I wonder what Peter told them when he bought the bra and panties," thought Sam. Sam had never worn women's clothes. The thought of transvestitism repelled him. He took one side of the panties in each hand and pulled them up his legs attempting to forget what he was doing as he did it. The bra was next, and, when it pinched his sensitive breasts, Sam wondered how women put up with the things. The hook in the back was no major problem to a man who had unhooked numerous bras in his 30 years. The see through blouse was almost a joke. Anyone looking at Sam could easily see the bra straps in back and the lace on the cups of the bra in front. The skirt came down to Sam's knees. He was relieved that it wasn't four inches above the knees. He wore the shoes without socks. Sam had to go somewhere, so he decided to go to MaryAnn's. At least he was expected. He approached the door and had to overcome a very deep apprehension that had overtaken him. He was about to walk out into a public place wearing women's clothes. A man just didn't do things like that. He had to remind himself that he was in a woman's body and that anyone looking at him would only see a woman wearing very plain woman's clothing. Sam opened the door and walked to the elevator staring at the floor the whole way. He was thoroughly ashamed and didn't want anyone to see his face. When the elevator door opened, Sam looked up and gasped at the sight of a 40ish looking man who had that die-hard Marine Corps look to him. "These guys beat the pulp out of sissys wearing dresses," were his silent thoughts. "Sorry if I startled you ma'am," and the Marine held the door for him. Sam overcame his fear again and entered the elevator. The Marine said nothing on the way down, but Sam knew that he was looking at Sam's female body. It's what Sam would have done in that situation. On the ground floor, the man held the door for Sam, and Sam knew he was watching Sam's swaying posterior as he walked out of the hotel. The walk down Nob Hill to Market Street was uneventful. Sam's apprehension at being ridiculed started to disappear. People perceived him as just another woman. A few men cast a lingering eye at him, but it was only the same gaze that he had had for an attractive woman, especially one whose soft skin and lacy bra were tantalizingly perceptible beneath her blouse. Sam wished that the blouse were a little thicker. The bus arrived, and Sam took a front seat. As was his custom, he started to put his left ankle on his right knee. The skirt lifted up and then fell down his legs. "Brother, I'm giving everyone a crotch shot," came the next silent thought. Sam lowered his leg and squeezed his knees together while smoothing the skirt out over his knees with his hand. He retained that position for the rest of the trip. Arriving at his stop, he walked the two blocks to MaryAnn's house. A police cruiser went by, but Sam had conquered most of his fear and merely smiled. The police generally had no time for men in skirts either, but Sam was adjusting to the fact that his skirt was on a woman's body. MaryAnn lived in what Sam would call a row house. It shared its side walls with the adjoining house. Sam knocked on the door and a woman in her late forty's answered the door. Sam identified himself as Barbara, and the woman, who was MaryAnn, let him in. "Barbara, where are your things?" was the first question. Sam concocted a story about leaving home with only a purse and telling his father that he was just headed to the store. He had taken the bus to San Francisco, and the purse had disappeared in the bus station the night before. As a precaution, he had kept a little money in his bra and had used the last of it the night before to get a motel room. And, here he was. MaryAnn was a little incredulous. "If you weren't a friend of Peter's, I would throw you out right now and let the wolves out there take care of you. That's very hard to believe, but Peter has done a lot for me and I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." MaryAnn engaged Sam in a long conversation that ranged over a number of topics. Sam's charm reasserted itself as Sam realized he was being tested for a position with MaryAnn's business. MaryAnn came to the conclusion that this young woman really was the scintillating conversationalist that Peter had promised. Her clients would appreciate an evening with this erudite person. "OK, I'll put you up for one week. After that, you will have to find your own place." Sam hoped that there would be no next week. "You can eat here too, but I'll take that out of your first week's commissions. I assume that I'll also have to front you the money to buy some clothes, and I'll take that out of your first week's commissions too." Sam at least had a place to stay. He also realized that it was about noon and that he was hungry for the first time that day. MaryAnn led him to the kitchen where the two women prepared lunch. MaryAnn paused while eating. "I have rules for my associates and for my clients. Before I share those rules with you, always remember that I don't have 'girls,' I have 'associates.' I don't sell sex, I provide companionship. If there is a sexual component to that companionship, so be it, but if a man just wants to relieve himself in you, he can go elsewhere. "My first rule for my associates is that they must keep the three tools of their trade in top condition. Those three tools are your mind, your physical appearance and your wardrobe. Your mind is in good condition. The other two we will have to work on. You'll need a quick trip to the hairdresser tomorrow. As soon as you finish lunch, we're off to the mall. "The second and last rule is to satisfy the client. As long as he doesn't put you in any danger and isn't demeaning you, you follow his instructions. Regardless of how good you feel or how much pleasure you may be experiencing at the time, your job is to make him feel satisfied and appreciated. If there are certain things you won't do, let me know now. I know most of my client's idiosyncracies, and I'll keep you away from the ones you don't want to handle. "My first rule for my clients is that they may not hurt you or humiliate you. They are expected to behave themselves. Second, they are responsible for your safety until 8:00 a.m. the following morning. You see one client a night, and he takes you to his home or a nice hotel. I don't run an "in-and- out" service. That also means that your 'shift' doesn't end until 8 o'clock either." "Those are good rules, MaryAnn. I like them." "Good, will you keep the two that apply to you?" Remembering that MaryAnn had to give Peter a good report, he responded, "yes." Changing subjects, MaryAnn asked "Is it true what Peter reports that you've never had relations with a man? You don't have to explain, Peter already has." "Yes." "OK, I'll take note of that." MaryAnn slipped into another room while Sam finished his lunch. A few minutes later she slipped back in and announced, "I have a client for you tomorrow evening. A nice fellow that pays a premium for a lady's first time." Externally, Sam drew on all of his charm to put on a smiling face and say "good." Internally he thought, "Some jerk guy is going to bang me. What is happening to my life?" Arriving at the mall, MaryAnn and Sam went first to the lingerie section in the mall's best department store. "You want something that is pleasing to a man's eye," MaryAnn explained. " We'll get into teddy's and more adventuresome things in a few weeks. Right now, we're just looking for lace or brocade on the bra cups and lace or embroidery on the panties. A little color helps too." Sam tried to control his embarrassment which arose from even being in the lingerie section. He also remembered that he had planned to be doing a final inventory of his backpack about this time, and here he was feeling the inside padding of bras. MaryAnn selected six pairs of lace panties of different colors from one particular style. "You'll like wearing these." Sam thought that he wouldn't. A bra fitting expert was at the store that day and MaryAnn asked for some assistance. The fitter took Sam into a changing room where Sam removed his blouse and bra. The fitter noticed a deep crease mark on each breast. "Oh, honey, that pinch must be painful. Let's see if we can get something that fits a little better. May I?" she asked as she used her hands to show that she wanted to touch Sam's breasts. The fitter took Sam's measurements and cup size. "A 34C should do it." She brought in a white bra that matched the panties MaryAnn had selected. Sam put it on, and the fitter hooked it in back and adjusted the straps. "How does that feel?" Sam had to admit that it felt much better. In fact, it felt comfortable, and it held his knockers much better than the one Peter had bought. The fitter let Sam wear the bra, and MaryAnn picked up three more in the same style and size and in colors to match the panties. MaryAnn also picked up a camisole, a half slip, two full slips of different lengths, and four pair of pantyhose in different shades. "Garter belts and stockings are for next week." It was quite a haul. MaryAnn simply explained to the clerk that her friend, Barbara, had lost her luggage on a recent flight. The clerk just made some comment about the baggage probably being in Timbuktu. Sam and MaryAnn proceeded into the mall. "Barbara, there is one thing we must be sure to handle today before the stores close. It can't wait until tomorrow. Come with me." MaryAnn walked down the wide concourse and turned into a small, brightly lit shop with the ominous name "Ear Rings and Ear Piercing." Sam's heart sank as MaryAnn said, "Have a seat." It was over in an instant and Sam left the store with a cut glass stud in each ear. "You need some everyday wear and a 'party' dress for tomorrow night. We'll look at the sales racks first. Most of the stuff on the sales racks is there for a reason, but you can find some nice things. Like this," said MaryAnn pointing at a rack with a two piece skirt and jacket outfit that was marked "50% OFF." The jacket was light blue with a printed paisley trim that matched the pleated skirt. "Try it on, Barbara." Sam took the outfit into the changing room. It seemed to fit alright, and MaryAnn was pleased. "Only $35. That's a gonga. And, it will be something to wear if you have to meet a client for lunch downtown." Browsing around, MaryAnn picked up two blouses, one of white cotton for household wear and one of a satin material that could be used for more formal occasions, a business style skirt that came down below Sam's knees and a pair of slacks. "Quite frankly, Barbara, you're lucky you found me. From what you're wearing, your choice in clothes is abominable. You'll be much more attractive in these. And, the cost hasn't been outlandish." At the discount shoe store, MaryAnn picked up a pair of stylish flats. "You can wear those things you have on when you go running, but my associates should maintain a certain amount of fashion at all times. You'll wear these as soon as we get home." It was approaching 4:00 and the stores closed a 5:00 on Sunday. "We still need a party dress," MaryAnn exclaimed "and, I don't like to be rushed. Let's go down to Sara's Fancy Dresses. I usually have good luck there." Sam was pretty well loaded down with packages, but MaryAnn took him to Sara's. "Your client likes the conservative- sophisticated look." MaryAnn pawed through racks of business and evening dresses. Pulling one off of the rack, she said, "This will do nicely if it fits you." MaryAnn nodded toward the changing room, and Sam proceeded to change into the dress. Never having pulled a zipper up the back of a dress while inside it, Sam walked out of the dressing room with the zipper half-down and asked MaryAnn for assistance. She zipped Sam up all of the way. The dress MaryAnn selected was classic in its style. It was dark blue, but with no trim. The sleeves were three quarters length. The jewel neckline fell just below Sam's collarbone revealing the delicate outlines of his neck. It was snug in the torso revealing Sam's bust and tight at the waist. From his hips, it fell straight to his knees with only enough flare for comfortable movement. "Oh, it's gorgeous, Barbara, and it fits you so well. I don't think we'll need any alterations. And now some shoes." Shoes meant heels. Sam knew that. He would not have dated a woman that went out in flats. "We're a little pressed for time, so we may not get the best fit, but we must get something stylish." MaryAnn selected a black velvet pump with two inch heels in Sam's size. Sam put on two peds that the shoe store had in boxes around the premises. Trying on the pumps, Sam wobbled a little. "Sorry, I haven't worn heels in a while," was Sam's explanation. "You'll have to practice tonight." MaryAnn paid this one last bill and they headed home. Sam spent the rest of the evening in pantyhose and heels learning(or as he told MaryAnn relearning) to wear two inch heels. 4. Lesson One Monday morning was spent at the hairdressers. It was an introduction to "girl talk." All of the women in the shop talked incessantly about things that interested Sam not at all. Despite all of his charm, Sam found it difficult to communicate with a woman when the other party thought Sam was a woman. He did receive a first class hair cut that kept his hair just below shoulder length and a manicure ending in an application of pink nail polish. The plan was to meet "Steve" at Market and Stockton at 5:30. There were reservations for dinner at 6:00 and the theater at 7:30. At 3:30 MaryAnn had Sam shower. Drying off, Sam saw the clothes MaryAnn had laid out: matching mint green bra and panties, blue pantyhose, a full slip and the blue party dress. Sam was nervous but proceeded to don the lingerie. A few minutes after Sam started to get dressed, MaryAnn walked in with a few things in her hand. "Here, you'll need this. It's Chanel No.5: the best." Sam recognized the scent and stood still as MaryAnn applied it to his neck and wrists. Sam then sat down in front of the makeup table in the room. MaryAnn helped him apply eyeshadow, mascara, eyebrow pencil, a little blush and lipstick. MaryAnn simply shook her head at Sam's ineptness at selecting and applying makeup. "You did have a conservative upbringing, didn't you?" There was also a pair of gold plated earrings to replace the glass studs. "These are mine, and I'll need them back." With the proper lingerie, the dress fit even better than in the store. It slid effortlessly over Sam's slip onto his shoulders. This time, he managed to zip the dress himself. Putting on his pumps, Sam thought he was ready. MaryAnn handed him one final item, a purse with a little cash, a hair brush, lipstick and a package of tissue. "We're off for your first engagement. Nervous?" asked MaryAnn. "A little." Sam was actually sick to think he was going on a date with a man, a man who expected everything Sam's female body could give. They drove to the nearest BART (subway) station and took it in to the Stockton terminal. Coming out of the terminal right at 5:30 MaryAnn saw Steve waiting on the corner. She introduced Sam to Steve as Barbara, wished everyone a pleasant evening and left. "Do you like Chinese?" Steve enquired. "I adore Chinese food. I suppose there are many good Chinese restaurants in this part of town." "Yes, and I have reservations at a cozy little place just two blocks away." They walked the two blocks to the restaurant. For the first time, Sam heard the "swish, swish" of the pantyhose on one thigh rubbing against the pantyhose on the other as he walked and the "clip, clip" of his heels on the sidewalk. Sam turned on his charm and got Steve to talk. The best way to start a relationship was to let the other person talk. Steve taught psychology at Berkeley. He was also an avid hiker and amateur geologist. The conversation turned to the geology of the Sierras which Steve knew firsthand and which Sam had studied in preparation for his hike. The conversation continued over dinner, and Steve made a mental note to compliment MaryAnn on assigning an associate with a real interest in learning serious subjects. Barbara was a most exciting young woman. An additional new experience awaited Sam. Halfway through the dinner, his bladder called. Excusing himself and grabbing his purse, he headed for the restroom. It was his first time in the "LADIES" room, and he simply speculated at what loveliness sat behind the doors of the stalls. He chose his own stall and returned to the table after completing his business. Steve's car was in the restaurant's parking lot, and the couple drove to the theater. Sam had expected a movie, but it was actually a stage production of George Bernard Shaw's "Major Barbara." "Aptly named," thought Sam. Sam had participated on a few drama productions in high school and college and was able to engage Steven in a discussion of the play and the staging between acts. Steve was even more impressed. The play ended, and they wandered to Steve's car. Steve offered his arm, and Sam took it remembering that he needed that favorable report to please Peter at the end of the week. In the car, Steve simply remarked, "I have reservations at the Gateway Motel. MaryAnn has approved of it before." Sam smiled and responded, "MaryAnn has high standards." Sam's stomach turned into knots as the car pulled into the parking lot. Steve registered, returned to the car and drove to their room. He held the car door for Sam and opened the door to the room letting Sam enter first. Sam placed his purse on the table and turned to face Steve as he closed the door. Steve advanced and took Sam in his arms holding him tightly. Sam embraced Steve in return as Steve's hands lowered there way to Sam's rear. Steve gently pulled Sam in close. Sam could feel the man's erection through his dress and knew where it was headed. He would simply have to endure the situation and make Steve think he was enjoying it. Steve's hands continued to wander over Sam's back and derriere. He looked down at Sam as Sam looked up. Their faces met, and they kissed. Sam could feel the stubble of Steve's beard around his lips. The kiss was long and passionate with Steve flicking his tongue in Sam's mouth and Sam flicking back. Steve's hands found their way to the neck of the dress and unhooked the clasp. The zipper fell slowly. He put one hand on each side of the neck of the dress and pulled the dress off of Sam's shoulders. Sam lowered his arms and the dress fell forming a blue ring around Sam's feet. The slip followed in a few seconds creating a white ring on top of the blue one. Sam began to feel cold. He hugged Steve more tightly, partly to satisfy the client and partly for warmth. Sam reached up and pulled the knot loose in Steve's tie as Steve unhooked the clasp of Sam's bra. As Sam's arms went lower and lower undoing each of the buttons on Steve's shirt, the bra slipped off of his shoulders and finally to the floor between them. Steve took Sam's arm and led him to the bed. He pulled back the sheet and placed Sam between him and the bed with Sam's back to the bed. Sam knocked off his pumps. Steve put a hand on each side of Sam's pantyhose, pulled it down slightly and said, "Sit down and raise your legs." Sam did so, and Steve deftly removed the pantyhose and panties in one movement. Sam was naked before a man with a bulging erection in his pants. Acting his part, Sam bent over and untied Steve's shoes. The only thing keeping him going was the hope that Peter would be good to his word if he received a good report from MaryAnn. As Steve slid off his shoes and removed his already unbuttoned shirt, Sam unbuckled Steve's belt and unzipped his trousers. Steve stepped out the trousers leaving his erection peering out of the top of his briefs. Sam pulled down the briefs leaving Steve fully naked with his steel hard love shaft bobbing in Sam's face. The sight of another man's swollen member mentally disgusted Sam, but he went forward automatically. Steve laid down beside Sam with the two laying on their sides facing each other. Each put an arm around the other, and Steve's erection throbbed against Sam's abdomen. "Don't be nervous. You'll enjoy it." Steve's hands slowly explored Sam's female body. Sam feigned pleasure as Steve played with each breast and nipple. The small amount of physical stimulation reaching Sam's brain was insufficient to overcome the emotional loathing his male mind had for the entire situation. Steve's hand eventually found its way to the inside of Sam's thigh and then to the lips of Sam's female opening. A finger went inside sending a moment of delight to Sam's mind. Steve's finger started to pump and the satisfaction increased. With a gentle nudge, Steve had Sam lay on his back. The pumping with the finger continued as Steve first kissed Sam's neck, then his chest and finally his breast. Steve's tongue made circles around one nipple and then began to suck it delicately. Torrents of pleasure now flooded Sam's body from two sources. The low moan was an involuntary reaction as Steve's stimulation released every female hormone Sam's new body could produce. Experienced as he was as a man, Sam had no experience with the new and different pleasures he was experiencing as a woman. He quickly reached orgasm arching his back high into the air to push against Steve's hand. "Girls do like it," he thought. As a man, Sam's orgasm would have ended that round of lovemaking, but as a woman, Sam was simply ready for more stimulation. Another orgasm followed in a few minutes. All feelings of revulsion retreated to the inner recesses of Sam's mind as the female hormones coursing through his body demanded complete satisfaction. The words, "I'm ready," flowing from Sam's mouth shocked even him. Steve obliged and placed himself between Sam's legs. He opened Sam's lips with his fingers and placed the tip of his shaft in the opening of Sam's love tunnel. Never having been used, Sam's pussy was very tight, and Steve pumped gently penetrating a little further with each stroke. Intense fulfillment inundated Sam's body along with a little discomfort from the pressure of Steve's penetration. After several strokes, Sam experienced a sharp pain as Steve broke through his hymen. Responding to the small gasp and the grimace on Sam's beautiful face, Steve whispered, "There's no more pain. That's the last of it. Trust me." Sam must have inadvertently moved backwards from the pressure of Steve's prick and the pain of the loss of his female virginity. Steve's head was now in the headboard. As a man, Sam had hated it when some bitch would back away from his thrusts so that his head was in the wall. He was usually very caustic in evaluating his partner's performance. "Oh Steve, we need to move down the bed. You must be very uncomfortable. I won't move away from you again." And the two lovers backed away from the headboard with Steve partially inside Sam. As Steve completed his penetration, Sam lost control of himself. He was completely unable to handle all of the new sensations emanating from the large male rod that was inside him. He began to pump against Steve's erection for his own pleasure. One orgasm came, and Sam again arched his back high into the air. He was oblivious to anything except the delight caused by Steve's male member. He reached another orgasm and was on his way to a third when he noticed that the sensation had changed. There wasn't as much of Steve as there had been. Steve had climaxed. His erection was going flaccid, and Sam hadn't even noticed. Steve was finished, and he withdrew before Sam could reach another moment of ecstasy. Sam heard himself say, "Oh no, oh no, not yet. More, please." But there was no more. A concoction of semen, vaginal juices and a little blood flowed out of Sam's pussy and between the cheeks of his posterior onto the bad. "Oh, yuck. That puts a real damper on things," thought Sam. "Let's shower," said Steve. Because the juices were still flowing out of him, Sam kept one hand between his legs as they walked to the shower. The two people washed each other under the warm cascading water. "Barbara, you appear to have enjoyed yourself immensely, but I think you forgot about me. I don't even think you knew that I had climaxed." It was a violation of MaryAnn's second rule, and Sam knew it. "But don't worry about it. You'll do better next time." "Next time." Yes, Sam would usually go two or three times a night too. As much physical pleasure as he had had, Sam realized he would have to endure the emotional trauma of making it with a man a second time that evening. They returned to the bed, and Sam took a wash cloth to the gooey mess on the bed. Steve pulled back the sheets and took the dry side of the bed. Sam knew he would have to sleep in the wet spot. Sam fell asleep only to be woken about 2:00 a.m. by Steve's wandering hands. Sam turned on his back. Continuing to act his part, he fondled Steve to bring his erection to fullness. As Steve penetrated him, he kept his mind focused on what Steve was doing. He gently wrapped his legs around Steve's legs and pulled Steve's body close to his. Sam was careful to move and pump in rhythm with Steve's motions. He attempted to give Steve everything he would have demanded from a female companion. Steve was no early ejaculator. He lasted a long time, long enough for Sam to reach another orgasm despite the fact that he was concentrating on Steve. Steve climaxed almost simultaneously, and the two showered again. "You learn very quickly, Barbara. That was fantastic. I enjoyed you immensely," Steve said when they returned to bed. Sam was scrunched up like a pretzel trying to avoid the two wet spots so that he could sleep. Sam did not rise until after 8:00. He turned to talk to Steve but Steve was already gone. He noted that his shift was over. There were two $20 bills on the nightstand and a little note. "Dear Barbara, Thanks for letting me be the first. I enjoy watching a woman's reaction when she is entered for the first time. You enjoyed it more than most. It was emotionally gratifying watching you even though it may not have been as physically pleasurable for me as it could have been. "You are a quick learner. The second time was absolutely the best sex I've had in a long time. Steve." "This guy just likes popping cherries," Sam thought with disgust, "and he got mine. He's just a voyeur seeing how I would react to that big prick of his." He was taken aback by his own thoughts. In his male thoughts, sex was simply an act to be enjoyed. As a female, he felt a little used by someone who just perceived him as a warm hole. His male approach to women had not totally changed yet, but he was beginning to see that the principle of the "3 F's" treated women as objects rather than as people. Dressing quickly, Sam took the $40 and walked down the street to a small cafe for breakfast. He was horribly overdressed for the place, especially wearing 2 inch heels at 9:00 a.m., and he drew some attention. He contemplated not returning to MaryAnn's, but $40 was not enough to live on for the rest of the week. Calling a cab, he returned to his employer's home. 5. Lesson Two MaryAnn met Sam at the door. "Steve called a little while ago from his office. He wants to know if your available in two weeks. I said I would have to check with you. I guess everything went OK." "I think I satisfied the client. It was a lot different than I expected." "Good, I have another client for this evening. His name is Hank, and you'll find that his tastes are substantially different than Steve's. If you take this one on, we'll be just about even on your wardrobe expenses. You have to understand that several of my associates won't work with Hank. He won't hurt you, but he is a little... abrupt." Sam felt trapped. He just wanted Peter to come back on Saturday and return him to his normal state. That meant getting the favorable report from MaryAnn. "Sure, I'll do it." "OK. It's another trip to the dress shop, and, I know I said garters were for next week, but we'll have to get one and some stockings. Why don't you get into a pair of slacks, your flats and your satin blouse and let's go?" Arriving at the dress shop, MaryAnn headed for the "professional" racks. Having helped her associates for many years, she was extremely adept at getting the right item of apparel quickly and at the right price. "Barbara, try this one on," she said pulling out a pink suit. Once again, Sam found himself in the changing room with females in various states of disrobement. There was still more than a kindle of the old Sam as he took in the human scenery. Sam took off his slacks and put on the skirt from the suit. The hem was at least six inches above the knee. The skirt was only a little longer than the jacket. Protest was on his mind when he went out to see MaryAnn. "That's it, Barbara. Hank will love it," MaryAnn exclaimed. "Love it. It barely covers what needs to be covered. How do you keep the prying eyes away when you're wearing something like this?" "It's exactly what Hank wants. Just remember to keep your thighs together when you sit down in public." The next purchase was a matching pair of pink three inch heels with an ankle strap. Sam would have to deal with the larger heel size in the space of an afternoon. The garter belt and black stockings were the last purchase of the day. MaryAnn offered some advice. "When you wear these, be sure to put your panties on over the garter straps. You'll se why." Evening came, and Sam felt like he was working the lower end of his new profession. Instead of being subtle, all of the makeup shades screamed "sex." MaryAnn provided big hoop earrings and suggested the matching red bra and panties. She let Sam keep the purse for another night. She also gave Sam a package of pantyliners to put in his purse. Sam was a little puzzled, because Peter had said he would not even ovulate for another eight days. MaryAnn dropped Sam off at Hank's apartment at 6:30. She waited to make sure that Hank answered the door. Hank greeted Sam wearing a bathrobe. It was impossible to see if he had anything on underneath, but Sam could guess. "The bedroom's back this way. Do You want to see it?" It was a lousy opening line, but Sam followed him to the bedroom. "Take off your panties and lay on the bed." Sam started to unbuckle his heels before removing his panties. "No, just your panties. Leave everything else on." He now understood MaryAnn's instructions, and the panties came off in one easy move. Hank took off the robe revealing that he had nothing on underneath and that he was ready for action. He lay between Sam's legs, pulled Sam's short skirt up a few inches to reveal his objective and pushed his member into Sam's opening. Sam concluded that Hank must have put some Vaseline on the tip of his organ, because Hank entered him relatively easily even though Sam had not had the opportunity to produce any lubricant. Sam went to put his arms around Hank. "No, just lay there," came Hank's terse response. Hank continued to pump, and Sam felt next to nothing. "This guy is just masturbating in me. Why doesn't he use his hand. It would probably be a lot more enjoyable." After a minute or so, Hank tensed and pumped his vital juices into Sam. Waiting until he went flaccid, Hank withdrew, and the mixture of semen and juices flowed between the cheeks of Sam's posterior down to the sheets. "There has to be a better way of pulling it out," Sam thought. "Thank you, Babs. Now let's get cleaned up quickly and get on our way." Hank led the way to the bathroom. Sam held up his skirt with one hand and kept the other between his legs so that nothing oozed onto his stockings. Two clean washcloths were sitting on the counter. Hank cleaned himself and was halfway dressed while semen and vaginal juices still dripped from Sam's love receptacle. "Get your panties on. I have reservations at the most exclusive disco in town." Putting his panties on now meant that Sam would be walking around all night with a damp crotch. It was then that he remembered the pantyliners. He took one out of the package and grabbed his panties. Pulling the panties up to his knees, he placed one pantyliner along the cotton panel. He pulled the panties up and was all set. The disco was nice but nothing spectacular. Hank danced with Sam to the loud and pulsating rhythms. It was a good thing none of the dances were close. Sam would not have known how to follow. On the way back, Sam began to wonder why Hank was a client. He didn't seem to meet MaryAnn's standards. At the apartment, Hank revealed his intellectual side. He pulled a book off of the shelf and began to read to Sam as they both sat on the sofa. It was a translation of Ovid's "Metamorphoses." Again, Sam thought it was an appropriate selection considering his situation. Sam recognized the text, impressing Hank. "No one knows the classics anymore. Do you want to hear it in Latin?" asked Hank. Not knowing any Latin, Sam declined. "I probably have a reputation among MaryAnn's employees of being very cold and interested only in obtaining 'ecstasy,'" Hank remarked. "It's because I don't have much interest in women who lack an appreciation of the finer things in life. When MaryAnn sends over a woman like that, I just take my pleasure from her. It seems this time, though, that she has sent a girl with a head on her shoulders. Maybe I can be a little more delicate." If the first penetration had been abrupt, the second was the classic seduction. Hank tried to put Sam in the right mental mood by reading Ovid's tales full of sexual innuendo if not outright pornography. Of course, Sam still thought of himself as a guy and wasn't seduceable by a man, but he played the part. They sat close to each other. Subtle hands undid buttons and tugged at zippers. Sam's jacket, then his skirt and then his blouse fell silently to the floor. Hank's clothes fell on top of Sam's. Sam was left lying on the sofa in his red bra and panties and his black garter belt and stockings. "Oh Barbara, you look delicious," came Hank's whispered remark. After casting a long and desiring look at the scantily clad female body before him, Hank reached behind Sam and unfastened his bra. With great care he pulled down Sam's panties and slid them past his feet. Hank played with the woman's body that was Sam for an exceedingly long time, caressing and kissing almost every conceivable place before fingering his final destination. Hank's fingers brought Sam to a first climax just like the night before and then began a long slow penetration with an erection of steel that sent Sam wild. Sam remembered to satisfy his client. He also explored Hank's body with his hands and kept Hank's mouth busy with long amorous kisses. He gently stroked Hank's member before penetration being careful not to bring him to full satisfaction before it was used for its intended purpose. As Hank lay between his legs, Sam wrapped his stockinged legs around Hank remembering how he had liked the feel and the look of stockings on a love partner. They came together. Sam was learning how to control the timing of a climax to coincide with that of his partner. He knew that watching your partner bask in the same ecstasy you were experiencing brought a certain mental satisfaction to a man. He was giving all for his client and to satisfy that clod, Peter, who had gotten him into this position. Their bodies were covered with perspiration, and they showered together with Sam giving Hank every rub he expected from a girl. Knowing what the man wanted gave Sam an edge in providing it. Returning to bed, Sam slept the rest of the night. At least the wet spot was on the sofa. There was a $50 bill on the nightstand when Sam woke. Hank had already left for work. "Hank got what he wanted, a good conversation and two fucks. I get a $50 tip," Sam thought. Sam took a cab to MaryAnn's. 6. Lesson Three When Sam returned, MaryAnn was nervous. "There's a 'bug' going around, and I've just had a sick call from my associate who was supposed to accompany Charles Winthrop, my most important client, to the charity ball on Thursday. I usually use out of town women for Mr. Winthrop because another client at the ball might recognize a local person. You haven't been around much, can you do the job? Mr. Winthrop has already given his approval. I apologize, I had intended give you tonight and Thursday off." MaryAnn had taken some risks with Sam, and now, he felt he had to repay her generosity. "I'm the woman who can do it." "Woman?" Sam asked himself why he had used that word. "Well, it's back to the dress shop, but don't worry about the cost. Everything is on Mr. Winthrop. I don't expect any of my associates to carry these types of clothes in their wardrobe." The dress shop catered to formal attire. MaryAnn looked at one formal evening dress after another. Sam tried on one dress with thin shoulder straps and a back that plunged to the very bottom of Sam's back. "Do I pull it up or down if I have to use the facilities?" he joked. The next evening dress was the one MaryAnn liked. It was a strapless white number that exposed the tops of Sam's breasts and his cleavage. The top of the dress came tightly under his armpits and around his back to keep the front in place. It then followed every contour of Sam's well fashioned body to the base of his hips and derriere. It clung tightly to his legs until about 5 inches above the ankle where three layers of white taffeta flared out to float just above the floor even with Sam wearing two inch heels. Sam could hardly walk in it. "You'll have all day today to learn, Barbara. I have another evening dress similar to it at home that you can wear for the rest of the day." Some alterations were necessary to the dress, and MaryAnn made arrangements to have it delivered the next day. Sam got his third pair of heels, a pure white pair to match the dress. MaryAnn also picked up a white brocaded clutch purse. "It doesn't carry much, but it looks stylish." Sam wore the "training dress" for most of the afternoon. Walking was difficult when you could only take 16 inch steps, but Sam learned. Stairs were a particular problem until MaryAnn suggested that Sam lift the front of the dress as he climbed or descended a set of stairs. As Sam walked around the house, MaryAnn took the time to explain that Mr. Winthrop was absolutely her best client and that he paid well. It is absolutely necessary that you please him. She also explained that Mr. Winthrop was a little bit older and may need some assistance when they were alone if he was to perform fully. A good part of Thursday was spent at the beauty salon. The stylist formed Sam's hair into an elegant coiffure sitting on his head. A few of the shorter wisps of hair trailed down the back of Sam's neck, and there was a curl on either side of his head. It was in the style of fashionable ladies. The dress arrived in plenty of time, and Sam began to dress at 5:30 for his 6:45 engagement with Mr. Winthrop. His makeup was perfect, but MaryAnn provided no jewelry. "Mr. Winthrop will bring the jewelry," explained MaryAnn. The plan was to meet Mr. Winthrop at a discrete hotel 15 minutes before the ball started. By the time introductions were over and they had driven the few miles to the ball, they would be fashionably late. Sam and MaryAnn arrived first and waited in a little side room off of the lobby. Mr. Winthrop arrived promptly at 6:45. MaryAnn made the introductions. Mr. Winthrop looked at Sam and simply said. "Call me Charles, my dear. There is no need for formality between us tonight." Charles produced a black velvet box and opened it. Inside was enough diamond jewelry for a king's ransom. "Allow me," he said removing a four stringed diamond choker. Sam turned around, and Charles pulled the choker snug around Sam's neck. MaryAnn helped with the diamond earrings which dangled from each of Sam's ears in a single string of five diamonds. The diamond bracelet and ring came last. "It is not an engagement ring, Barbara. It is simply on loan for the evening." Sam looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a million bucks, literally. He raised his delicate hand to his throat to touch the diamonds around his neck. The play of his well manicured hand and tastefully painted nails against the diamonds and the soft white of his shoulders was the most elegant thing he had ever seen. A quick thought raced across his mind, "Boy, what I would have given to have holed somebody like that last week. And now it's me that's getting holed." Charles offered his arm which Sam took eagerly. He would need the balance walking in his formal evening dress. Charles escorted Sam to his limousine. Sam had seen the name