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The normal set of disclaimers applies. Those who archive stories on free sites may do so, provided no changes are made in the text. Writer's Block By Bill Hart As Lance Thorndyke entered his publisher's office, he was worried how they'd react to him telling them he wouldn't have his newest book ready by its agreed upon next week's due date. He'd run into writers' blocks before now, but this block was totally different than any of the others he'd ever suffered through. No matter whatever he tried, he just couldn't come up with anything to write. "How's the book coming along, Lance?" asked Samuel Morton, his agent and long time friend. It had been Sam who'd been responsible for getting him to start writing in the first place. "Slow, Sammy. Very slow," replied Lance. "Everything's been a lot slower for this book than for any of the others. I just can't put my finger on anything in particular, Sammy, but I seem to have totally misplaced my creative inspiration somewhere." "I'm not really surprised, Lance. To be quite honest, I've been expecting this would happen to you sooner or later," said Samuel. "I was just hoping it would be a lot later than sooner. Given what you write, a drying of your creative juices was more or less inevitable. Let's face it Lance, sixteen books in this particular genre is a lot. Now don't get me wrong, Lance; your books are just like putting money in the bank for this company. And I'm certainly they'll willing extend your deadline a few more weeks, if that's what it takes. It's just too bad, we can't schedule any personal appearances for you. I've found they generally prove helpful in unblocking writers." Lance smiled. "You know that would never work." As he picked up his last book from Sam's desk, he added, "I just don't look very much like this picture on the back jacket of my book." "But you know why we didn't put the real you on the back jacket," said Sam. "After we fed all that reader survey information we collected about what readers of torrid romance novels expected their favorite writers to be like, we all knew we couldn't possibly put your picture on your book. But the program also generated this composite picture from your fans' expectations of what you'd be like. I can't say I was surprised the first time I saw it, Lance. Guys generally don't write torrid romance novels as convincing as those you write." "Don't you think I know that, Sammy?" replied Lance. "Even though you convinced me they were good enough to publish years ago, I still don't know how I got started writing them. They aren't anywhere close to what I expected to be writing after graduating from college, but I can't seem to write anything else - believe me I've tried." Lance sighed. "And now I've come down with this really horrible case of writers' block in this area as well." Lance looked down at the beautiful green-eyed woman with shoulder-length red hair that graced his book's back cover. "You know, Sammy, sometimes I think it's too bad she's only make-believe. Spending a little quality time with a looker like my alter ego here might prove very helpful." "You'd be much better off finding a real woman, Lance," said Sam. "Lanella Thornton might be an exceptionally hot looking babe, but she still doesn't exist. She's simply a computer-generated wet dream of your fans - nothing more. Why don't you take a couple of weeks off from writing? Some time away from writing will hopefully jumpstart those creative juice of yours into full flow again. I'll talk to the marketing guys upstairs, but there shouldn't be any problems convincing them to delay the release of the next Lanella Thornton bestseller a few more weeks." "Thanks, Sammy. I'll really appreciate any additional time you can give me. And maybe you're right about that time off, Sammy. Maybe a couple of weeks away from writing might do the trick." Lance smiled with a feeling of some relief. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks," said Lance, while adding silently to himself, hopefully with a newly finished manuscript. *** Still feeling depressed, Lance Thorndyke walked down the street outside his publisher's building heading for his car in the nearby public parking lot. He'd never really considered himself a great writer, but all those books he'd written using the name Lanella Thornton had not only paid all of his bills, there had also been plenty left over for the other comforts he'd grown accustomed to having and never wanted to be without again. He just had to do something to get his creative juices into full flow again. But he had no idea what he could do. Lance wondered if should try finding a party somewhere. On any given night, he knew one of his friends would be throwing a party. They never needed a reason; they simply liked to party. He'd have to make a few phone calls to some of them after he got home. Perhaps a party, particularly if there were a few loose babes hanging about, might be just the thing he needed to jumpstart his creative juices. But even if a party wound up doing nothing for him, at least he could escape worrying about his troubles for a few hours. An old woman stepped out of a small door as Lance neared. Her gray hair was wrapped in a tight bun and her wrinkles were wrinkled. She smiled as Lance walked past. "You seem quite tense, young man. That is not good for you, but you must know that already." "What?" replied Lance as he turned back toward the old woman. "I said only that you seemed quite tense, young man," said the old woman. "Such an intensity of tenseness as I sense from you is not good for anyone. But surely someone of your young age cannot be hard of hearing." "Of course not. I was just surprised you spoke to me; generally no one speaks to anyone on the streets around here." "That is sadly true for the most part, young man. But I have never sensed such tenseness in you when you've passed before. Even the blindest man several miles away would easily 'see' your great tenseness." "How would that be possible?" "It is in your aura, young man. Your aura transcends mere sight. It is most clearly greatly disturbed." Lance smiled, very surprised to be getting such a strange pitch in the middle of the downtown business district. "And just what can we do about... my aura?" "That is quite simple indeed, young man," grinned the old woman toothlessly. "You are now in great need of much relaxation. Even your simplest troubles must soon be unwound. Total relaxation is one of the things that most generally soothes an aura as greatly troubled as yours is. And I believe I have exactly what you need inside my small shop." Lance smiled again. "And just how much would whatever this thing I supposedly need cost me, old woman?" The old woman looked up at him in surprise. "Why it would be totally free of charge, young man. One always feels so much better - almost like a brand new person - once one's aura has regained its balance. All of your current troubles will simply cease to be, young man. It would be most wicked and highly insensitive of me to charge anything to someone in as desperate a need as you." This is an interesting new type of sales pitch, thought Lance. But once we're inside, I'll be surprised if she doesn't suddenly think of asking for a small donation - completely voluntary, of course. "Then why don't we go inside; let me see what you've got that you think I so desperately need." As he followed the old woman inside, Lance was quite surprised by the sparsity of furniture in the room. There were only two antique wooden folding chairs to sit on. Very clearly this old woman had few worldly possessions. Lance wondered how anyone could possibly live with so few things. But at the same time, he began worrying that things here be far different than he'd been expecting. "Fear not, young man," smiled the old woman. "You have no need to be worried here, young man. No harm shall befall you within my walls; I guarantee it. As I told you outside, I seek only the soothing of your greatly troubled aura." Lance stared curiously at the old woman. This just had to be some kind of trick. How could she have possibly known what he'd been thinking? The old woman looked towards the thick curtains hanging in a doorway that obviously led to another room. "You must come out now, dear one," she said in an odd sounding tone. "Please come out so that together we might return this unfortunate one's troubled aura to one of a more normal and natural state." Even as Lance wondered to whom the old woman was speaking, he was considered turning around and fleeing through the still open door. But, before he could act, a small very delicate hand appeared through an unnoticed seam in the curtain. As the hand slowly pulled the curtain back, Lance stared at she - a beautiful blonde with sparkling blue eyes - who emerged, as if a goddess, from behind it. Lance couldn't take his eyes off this incredible vision of loveliness standing before him. She seemed more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen before. "Is he the one in dire need, ancient mother?" asked the newly arrived beauty in a melodic, yet oddly accented, voice. "He is, dear one," she smiled. The young woman looked Lance over very carefully. She couldn't help but notice his steady leer. And yet, his reaction to her presence was nothing unusual to her. She nodded her head toward him, as if she were merely acknowledging his interest, then smiled. "My name is Mysti. Please come with me, young gentleman; we have much that must be done and precious little time in which to do it." Lance, as if entranced by the scantily clad Mysti, could do nothing other than follow the young beauty into that unknown place waiting for him behind the curtain. As the curtain swished shut behind the departing couple, the old woman smiled. But then, it wasn't as if the young man had ever had another choice. *** "We shall be going to a party a little later tonight, Lance," said the blonde goddess. "We will?" asked Lance, not noticing she'd called him by name. "But we've only just met, Mysti." But something in his voice must have betrayed his inner thoughts. "It shall be all right, Lance. This shall not be a date; we shall be going to this party simply as two friends - nothing more, nothing less." "Oh," sighed Lance, sounding obviously disappointed. "But before we go, you must change your clothes." "Why?" asked Lance. "For what I laid out on this suit, what could possibly be wrong with it?" "It is highly inappropriate for where we are going tonight, Lance," replied Mysti. "Where we are going, no one wears a suit." Mysti slowly opened a drawer in a small cabinet that Lance hadn't seen until the instant before. Reaching inside, she quickly selected some clothes, then casually tossed them to Lance. "You shall wear these clothes tonight." Lance stared at the clothes Mysti had tossed him. "But I can't wear these," he protested. The pair of short shorts was very similar to those Mysti was wearing. And the scanty silken halter with thin shoulder straps was, except for its deep violet color, identical to the light blue top Mysti was currently wearing. How could he possibly wear these things? "Of course you can wear them, Lance," replied Mysti calmly. "They shall allow you to fit in where we're going quite perfectly." Lance looked at the silken top again. "But I just can't wear this." "It is your choice, Lance," frowned Mysti. "If that is what you desire, you may have your own way, Lance. But if you choose not to allow us to soothe your angry aura in the best way we know how, then you might just as well leave this place now. We will not be able to help you." Without the smallest flinch, she gazed deeply into Lance's eyes. "But you must also be warned that once you have rejected this attempt to assist you, you may never again seek our aide. Should you leave now, you'll never see me or the ancient mother again." Lance didn't really give a rat's ass if he ever sat that toothless old bat again, but just the thought of never again seeing the sensual goddess Mysti was quite another story. Besides, what would it really matter if they were going to some party where all the men apparently dressed as women? He wasn't overly likely to run across any of his friends in some place like that. "Okay, Mysti, I'll wear your clothes," he said reluctantly. "But only for you." He knew wearing these tight-fitting female clothes would make him look like a total fool, but if being the fool were what it took to get closer to Mysti, he could live with it for a short while. Lance started to unbutton his shirt, then looked over at Mysti and stopped. "You need not be so shy with me, Lance," Mysti smiled warmly. "I have seen plenty of naked men in my life." I'll just bet you have, thought Lance, as he hesitantly resumed undressing. But he still wasn't altogether certain he liked the odd way Mysti kept smiling at him. Even though he was a writer of torrid romance novels, he still knew he had little experience with the ways of a beautiful woman like Mysti. It might be hard for anyone to believe, but nothing he'd ever written under his pen name of Lanella Thornton came as a result of personal experience. How could he ever hope to explain to anyone that he simply had no idea where any of those things he wrote about actually came from - sizzling new ideas had always, up until this last book, just popped into his mind whenever he'd needed them. Lance slowly slid into the shorts. Although softer and smoother than anything he'd ever worn, they were still rather tight in the crotch. But Lance had been expecting as much. They also fit - just as he'd expected - quite loosely about his hips with plenty of spare space in the posterior. He pulled the small top carefully over his head. Quite obviously, the halter hadn't been made to be worn by a man. The small straps dug into his shoulders. The skimpy halter also fit more tightly across his chest than he'd been expecting. And yet, although he was taller and wider across the shoulders than Mysti, it still, for some as yet unknown reason, seemed quite baggy in the front. "Now is that not much better, Lance?" smiled Mysti. "Do you not feel better already?" "I don't know about feeling better," replied Lance. "But I certainly feel more foolish." "You should not be embarrassed, you know. But you shall soon start feeling better about yourself once you have seen how attractive you appear?" Attractive? She must think me a complete idiot, thought Lance. "Perhaps," he mumbled, "but I really doubt it." "But you shall not really know until after you have seen yourself. Come, Lance," she whispered. "Come stand beside me so that together we might gaze upon ourselves in the ancient mirror of souls." Ancient mirror of souls? What utter nonsense is that? Lance hadn't noticed a mirror when he'd entered the back room with Mysti, but at the same time he hadn't been looking for one either. And yet, how could he have possibly missed such an imposing sight as this antique. But there always seemed to be things appearing out of nowhere in this place. As he stood beside Mysti, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He no longer thought of himself as foolish looking; he now thought he looked downright stupid. And despite seeing himself standing before the old mirror dressed as he was, Lance still found it difficult to believe that Mysti had somehow conned him into wearing her clothes. Mysti's reflection was just as gorgeous as the real thing. But his own reflection looked like a very foolish and gullible middle-aged man with hairy legs and a hairy chest in piss poor drag. "I don't think this will work with me dressed this way, Mysti?" "Nonsense, Lance. It shall, of course, work," smiled Mysti. "You need only begin thinking about yourself more positively." "I need to think about myself more positively?" laughed Lance. "Forgive me for saying this, Mysti, but I can't help thinking I'd need nothing less a fucking miracle. I look horrendous dressed this way. I'm sure you must agree that someone wearing your clothes should have a body more like yours than mine. I could never begin to look as good as you wearing your clothes." Mysti smiled at Lance. "I am so very glad that you have agreed with the ancient mother's evaluation." The antique mirror suddenly began glowing. As the mirror's glow brightened, Lance's body began tingling all over. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, feeling suddenly anxious. At first, Lance felt merely increasingly strange, but suddenly all sense of feeling left his body. And at the same time, he also felt oddly compelled to gaze deeper into the antique mirror. While Mysti's reflection remained unchanged, the image next to hers - his own image, Lance realized without much sense of concern - had begun changing. It was shrinking. Only moments before, it had been several inches taller than Mysti's image, but now they'd become more or less the same height. Its legs now seemed somehow smoother than he remembered; Lance could see no hair on them at all. The bulge in its tight-fitting crotch had also vanished, replaced by an odd unmanly smoothness. Its hips had also noticeably widened. And although he couldn't see its behind clearly, quite obviously, its buttocks had also expanded significantly. With the exception of what was on its head, Lance watched all remaining traces of its bodily hair fade from sight. He saw its waist pull slowly inwards, then watched as its chest began swelling. At first, only a small pair of nubs appeared to push out the fabric of the halter. But they quickly ballooned into a woman's full and firm breasts that were easily as large as Mysti's. Even its face slowly altered as Lance watched dispassionately. It very quickly lost any and all traces of the male's face it had once been, becoming not only decidedly and increasingly feminine, but also quite inexplicably more and more familiar. Its eyes turned green. And as Lance watched spellbound, its short dark hair flowed out to shoulder-length, steadily reddening with every new inch it grew. Abruptly, feeling began returning to Lance's body. But even after the strange tingling had finally ceased, Lance still felt very peculiar. There was now an odd new weight hanging from his chest and, as he moved his head, his hair casually swished across his shoulders. As a lock of his hair fell across his eyes, its redness surprised Lance, although not nearly as much as the daintiness of the hand he witnessed casually sweeping his new red locks away from the front of his face. Lance looked back at the image in the mirror once more. It was absently cupping one of its large breasts. Although he wondered what it was making him feel so incredibly good, Lance was totally surprised to discover one of his hands cupping one of his new breasts. But as his and its hands flew down to his and its respective crotches, Lance suddenly felt the horror he saw reflected in its face. It was gone. But how could it be gone? Lance turned quickly to Mysti for an answer. "What have you done to me?" he asked in a surprisingly sultry soprano. Mysti simply smiled. "Only what we told you we would. We have only just begun the process of soothing your aura, Lance. Do you not recall why you are here, Lance? Did I not tell you earlier that wearing these clothes would allow you to fit in where we are going?" "But..." "There shall be no buts, Lance. You shall fit in perfectly now. Do you not remember?" asked Mysti. "You and I are going to a party tonight. And if I am also to take my newest friend Lanella Thornton to this wonderful party, should you not at least look like Lanella Thornton?" "You knew who I was?" whispered Lance in surprise, finally realizing why the image he'd become had looked so familiar in the mirror. "But how could you have possibly known? Aside from me and my agent, no one is supposed to know I write as Lanella Thornton." "But your aura reveals all that your are, Lance. Who you are is there for all who may to read; there can be no secrets," replied Mysti. "That is how I also know you to be Lanella Thornton, as well as Lance Thorndyke. That is how the ancient mother knew you were in urgent need of our help. But all of that is unimportant for the moment; now you must get ready for the party." Mysti pointed to the dresser, which was now covered with assorted cosmetics. "You may use whatever you will, Lance. I am certain you will find something appropriate you like." "But I have no idea what to do with any of that junk," replied Lance in his sultry soprano. "But, of course, you do, Lance," relied Mysti. "You always have known." As Lance nervously sat down in front of the dresser, he curiously poked through everything sitting on it. Suddenly, he wondered why he'd told Mysti he didn't know what to do with any of it. Doing his own makeup wasn't really very difficult, but then he also had his many years of expertise to draw upon. "How do I look, Mysti?" he asked once he finished applying his makeup. "You look gorgeous, Lance. Simply gorgeous." Lance smiled at Mysti's compliment. And yet, somehow he couldn't help thinking that he should be a little more concerned about his being thought 'simply gorgeous' by anyone. Lance wondered why they were on fraternity row. Clearly he and Mysti were too old for a fraternity party. But obviously that was precisely what Mysti had on her mind. As if she'd heard his thoughts, Mysti said, "Do not worry. The boys always welcome me and my friends." But as Lance and Mysti neared the door that, when it finally opened, would admit them to the fraternity party, Mysti unexpectedly stopped. Although he'd been expecting several problems along the way, Lance had actually encountered none. He'd been quite pleasantly surprised at how easily and almost naturally he'd walked those several long blocks from Mysti's place in his newly altered body, although not nearly as surprised as when he'd discovered he'd walked that distance in shoes with three-inch heels. And yet, he'd walked in them so confidently and easily - it almost seemed as if he'd been walking on heels for several years. "What is it? Is there something wrong, Mysti?" he asked his companion, while feeling somewhat uneasy about being where he was. "Possibly," replied the blonde. "But it is hopefully nothing." "What do you mean?" "Just a few minor things really." As Mysti waved her hand at the brick wall, it suddenly glazed silver, becoming a reflecting surface. "First, please gaze into this mirrored surface and tell me who you see." "That's easy," replied Lance as he looked at the image reflected in the mirrored surface. "I see that very pretty young woman into which you have somehow transformed me." "A fair response to my question," said Mysti. "But it is also one I perceive might cause us a fair amount of trouble inside." Mysti stared into Lance's eyes. "Tell me once again who you see on the silvered wall." "That's still easy," smiled Lance. For an instant, he thought he looked younger, but he decided it had to be his imagination. "But it's the still same answer as before; I see my own very pretty self." "A much better answer. Now, what's your name?" Lance gave his blonde companion a puzzled look. "But you already know my name, Mysti. Why are you asking me something you already know?" "Just humor me." "My name's Lance Thorndyke," he replied. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, while casually sliding a hand onto his hip and striking a sensual pose in the mirror. "That might also represent a potential problem, once we go inside. It is entirely possible you could have some trouble with a few of the boys inside if you were to tell them your name is Lance. But do not worry, we shall also fix that." Once again, Mysti stared into Lance's eyes. "All right, let's try that last question again. Would you tell me your name?" Still somewhat confused by Mysti's need to repeat her question, Lance shook his head. "Although it hasn't changed, I suppose I'd better humor you again this time, or we'll just wind up standing out here all night with you asking me to repeat my name over and over." But he still wondered what could possibly be so wrong with his name that it might cause anyone inside any problems. "As we both already know, my name is Lanella - Lanella Thornton - but everybody calls me Laini." Lanella suddenly shook his head. Something about his name hadn't sounded exactly right in his ears as he'd spoken it. But yet, it just had to be right. Lanella was thoroughly convinced that if he'd ever had a name other than Lanella or more commonly Laini, he certainly would have known about it. "Maybe we won't have any problems with that issue after all, Lanella." "I should certainly hope not," he replied indignantly. "And why are you being so formal all of sudden? Are you mad at me or something?" "Of course not, Laini." "But I still find it hard to believe anyone inside could have any problems with my name being Laini Thornton. But you said there were few things; what else might pose us a problem?" "It shall be best to show you." Suddenly and unexpectedly, Mysti pulled Lanella to her and began kissing him passionately. At first, Lanella was surprised by Mysti's unanticipated action. But at the same time, having been trying to figure out some way of getting closer to the buxom blonde since they'd first met, he soon began responding to her passions with his own growing passions. But then, abruptly, Lanella pulled himself away from Mysti's embrace and stared at his friend in confused disbelief. "Just what do you think you're doing, Mysti?" asked Lanella in a tone echoing her bewilderment, as well as mild annoyance. "I just thought that was something you wanted me to do, Laini," replied Mysti with an elfin grin. "You've got to be kidding," frowned Lanella. "You, of all people, know I don't do that sort of thing with girls." But even as he'd uttered those words aloud, Lanella wondered why he'd told Mysti something like that. He very clearly remembered kissing plenty of girls before tonight... but he just as clearly knew that none of them had ever really been anything special to him. He also remembered that he didn't play around with girls - never had; never would. Besides, most of the girls he knew - Mysti was that rare exception - had always been extremely jealous of his totally gorgeous sexy frame. Lanella realized he must have somehow and quite inadvertently been sending mixed signals to his friend Mysti all night long. And finally, but quite understandably, she'd been unable to control herself. She can be a poor confused girl sometimes, thought Lanella. And yet, Mysti was certainly pretty enough to attract some other man, who, unlike him, truly wanted her. Mysti smiled at him. "I really didn't mean anything by it Laini. I hope you were not offended when I kissed you." She waved a hand at the silvered surface, returning it to the brick wall it had been. "I just needed to remind you how much I like you, Laini. But I also needed to make sure you should expect the unexpected once we enter." Lanella cautiously returned her smile. Although he didn't know when their relationship had changed, he didn't want his best friend thinking he was easy. "That's all right, Mysti. There was no real harm done." And yet, there was something that, as impossible as it seemed to Lanella, still seemed wrong about him not wanting Mysti as more than just his best friend. As he and Mysti entered through the door, Lanella could tell immediately that eyes turned quickly in their direction. However, he wasn't overly surprised by that reaction; it was so commonplace a reaction to his entry that he'd more or less expected it. Nearly everywhere he went he turned male heads, as well as those of the occasional female disposed towards dallying with busty males like him. But Lanella wondered why all of their lust-filled stares made him feel slightly uneasy and uncomfortable tonight. Having looked over the partygoers, his gaze returned to Mysti just in time to see a couple of college boys approaching her. At first, Lanella felt twin surges of anger and jealousy that they would dare bother his Mysti. But after another split second had passed, he realized there were two good looking guys with her and only one Mysti. And hadn't he and Mysti always shared before? Quickly making his way toward Mysti and the males with her, Lanella smiled as he saw the taller of the two staring his way with a clearly obvious interest in what he saw approaching. "Laini! I'd wondered where you'd run off!" exclaimed Mysti, as she saw her friend approaching. "I want you to meet two good friends of mine. This is Alex." She indicated the shorter boy with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. "And this," indicating the taller, more handsome - in his opinion - of the two, "is Woody. Guys, this is my really good friend Laini. She'll be staying with me for the next few nights." "Hi, Laini," chorused the young men. But even as Woody smiled at him, Lanella could tell that he was most definitely interested in him. But somehow, it didn't seem exactly right. And yet, who was he to tell anyone they couldn't be interested in him? "Would you like to dance with me, Laini?" asked Woody hopefully. Dance? But I can't dance, thought Lanella. Suddenly filled with panic, he glanced over towards Mysti, as if he might somehow ask his friend how to dance in the new few seconds. Mysti merely smiled back; she'd understood Lanella's new need immediately. "You are in for a treat, Woody. Since you've just met, you couldn't know that Laini won her state dancing competition last summer. She doesn't like to brag about herself, but she's always been an exceptional dancer." Lanella suddenly looked relieved; her panic had vanished. But he couldn't quite understand why Mysti kept referring to him as 'she' and 'her'. She knew better. But she also knew Woody and Alex; maybe she thought they would be disturbed if they knew he was really male. But Lanella's concern about Mysti's pronoun references to him suddenly vanished. Instead, he began wondering how he could have forgotten just how great a dancer he'd always been. *** Woody and Lanella danced together the rest of the night. They were inseparable. Several times, when another interested young man had tried cutting in on them, a firm warning glare from Woody quickly made him change his mind. Lanella quickly decided that Woody must really like him a lot. Oddly, Woody liking him so much worried him for some reason he couldn't fathom. But, at the same time, it also made him feel strangely wonderful. He'd only seen Mysti occasionally while he and Woody were dancing. And whenever he had seen her, his friend had seemed to be constantly flitting from one boy to the next. Although none of her activities bothered Lanella very much - she was just being Mysti - he was still worried. Despite what Mysti had told him earlier, he still thought that his friend might be carrying a secret torch for him. But it would never work between them. Mysti had always known he'd never liked girls in that same way she liked boys. But Lanella absolutely adored being the center of all this attention, even if it meant he had to keep dancing with such a handsome young man as Woody all night. It was, he smiled, one of those little crosses in life he'd more than willingly bear. When the musicians finally stopped to take a well-deserved break, Woody leaned over and whispered something in Lanella's ear. Lanella nodded as she smiled back at him. But when he looked around to find Mysti, Lanella was distressed at being unable to find her. And yet, all he'd wanted to tell her was she shouldn't worry about him if she couldn't find him later. Woody had asked him to go back to his place and he'd decided he would go. She wasn't certain why, but if it came down to a choice between finding Mysti and going home with the handsome Woody, then Mysti would just have to understand about Woody being the obvious winner. After another quick look around the room again failed to turn up any sign of Mysti, Lanella turned to her young man. "I'm ready to leave when you are, Woody." Effortlessly sliding his arm about his slender waist, Woody led Lanella, both of them all smiles, from the room. And from a darkened corner of the same room, Mysti smiled as she watched them leaving together arm-in-arm. "It seems all will soon be on the proper track, Lance Thorndyke," she smiled. "I have no doubts you shall enjoy yourself, as it certainly seems your badly abused aura will soon begin being soothed. I believe you shall experience things far past anything you might have ever imagined possible." *** "What an absolutely fantastic book, Lanella," exclaimed Samuel Morton enthusiastically. Given what she'd told him before, he'd been surprised to have his prized author return in less than a week with a completed manuscript. But, for as long as he'd known her, she'd always been full of surprises. "I'll swear this is probably your best work ever." "But you say that every time I turn in a new book, Sammy," purred Lanella. "But that's only because it's definitely true every time," countered Sam quickly. "I really don't know how you keep doing it, but your books just keep getting better and better. There is absolutely no one in this business that comes close to writing torrid romance novels the way you do." "You know, Sammy, if I didn't know you better, I'd almost swear you were trying to get into my pants," grinned Lanella mischievously. "Don't think I haven't thought about it, gorgeous," replied Sam with a wide grin. "But I've never believed that mixing business with pleasure was such a good idea. You bring far too much working capital into this company with your novels for me to risk screwing it up - sorry about that pun - for a night or two of mindless passions." "That's all right, Sammy. I've probably heard every poor pun at one time or another. Although I think it's a real shame we've never been together, I guess you're right about mixing business and pleasure. After all," she grinned, "for as long as I've known you, you've always been right on top of this kind of thing, Sammy." Samuel grinned sheepishly; her pun had been worse than his. "Are you prepared for that book signing we've set up for next week?" "I suppose, Sammy," replied Lanella. "But I'm still feeling somewhat nervous about it." "That's perfectly understandable; it's the very first, of hopefully many, many more, public appearances for Lanella Thornton. Heaven only knows why you never wanted to do them earlier; your public's always been clamoring for them." "I had my reasons for not wanting to do them before, Sammy. But they've all just recently become non-issues; they'll never cause problems again." "I've even had some new publicity photos made. I don't know what it was about the old ones, but all of a sudden they just seemed to be missing something extremely important." "May I see one of them?" asked Lanella. "Of course. All you need to do is ask?" Sam handed his most successful author one of her new publicity stills. "We'll also be using this one on your new book." Lanella smiled after looking it over closely. "It's an excellent picture of me, Sammy." "How could it be anything but excellent with you as the subject?" smiled Sam. "Aren't you just so sweet, Sammy?" she smiled. "Would you like me to autograph one of them just for you?" "Would you?" Sam watched while Lanella quickly scribbled something across the photo, then handed it back to him. "To the very best agent in the whole wide world, love and x-x-x's, Lanella Thornton," read Sam with smug satisfaction. "I'll always treasure this, Lanella." But as he looked a little closer at the words written across the picture, Sam's smile widened. "Are you sure you've never done personal appearances before? This ink you've used to sign this picture is an absolutely marvelous stroke of genius, Lanella. But where in the world did you ever find ink the same sparkling blue color as your beautiful eyes." "Do you really like it?" Lanella smiled at her agent. "I found it in this quaint little curio shop run by an old woman not far from here," she replied, casually sweeping her soft shoulder-length blonde hair away from the front of her face. "Should I come here and pick you up on the day of my personal appearance, Sammy? I assume you're going." "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Lanella." Leaning towards him, Lanella's lips lightly brushed Samuel's cheek. "Then I'll see you then, Sammy." And with that she turned and swayed sexily out the door. Sam's gaze lingered on the door for several minutes after his prized author Lanella Thornton had left. "I only wish I could get to know her better than just a friend," he sighed, "but what would happen to this company if she decided to leave because of me?" *** Lance Thorndyke, still physically the buxomly red-headed woman he'd become a week earlier, stared angrily at the blond woman he'd known only as Mysti when she returned to the old woman's shop. "Can I assume that Sammy loved the book I wrote that you just turned in?" Almost effortlessly, he brushed his flaming red hair away from his green eyes. "Of course, he loved it, Lance. But then, as you'll remember, he's loved them all," smiled Mysti. "He even told me he thought this was Lanella's best book ever." "Sammy always says that," snapped Lance. "I think it's something written into the standard contract that agents are required to say whenever an author turns in another book." "Perhaps," replied the buxom blonde. "But I had the distinct impression he really meant it this time. Besides, you wrote this new book from a perspective totally unlike anything you'd ever known before." "Yeah, right; I suppose you could say that again. I write all day as Lance, what I experienced the night before getting fucked as Laini," snarled Lance sarcastically. "Isn't it just amazing how a few simple nights getting repeatedly fucked - and totally enjoying it - will cure a little writer's block." He looked at Mysti. "Although I can't understand how you can possibly do whatever it is you and that old woman have done, I assume Sammy thought you were actually the real Lanella Thornton." "Of course, he thought I was the real Lanella Thornton. That is the way things are... now," she replied. "But you shall no doubt be very pleased with the news the ancient mother has given me of your aura. She has told me your aura is now as soothed as that of a newborn babe." "Finally! I'd begun wondering what was taking so long!" exclaimed Lance. "Yours was a longer and more difficult fight than we anticipated." "So when do I get changed back into me? Believe it or not, it has been kind of fun being a girl for the last few nights. After a while, even the endless screwing wasn't so bad. But that girl constantly seeking pleasure I've been acting like these past few nights isn't really me. I have my own life to live." "Do you?" "Of course, I do," replied Lance, suddenly feeling nervous. "I'm Lance Thorndyke. I'm also the successful novelist Lanella Thornton." "But you are no longer Lanella Thornton; you were never meant to be," replied the former Mysti sadly. "I am she now. When the ancient mother proclaimed this as the truth, it was so. Another will soon arrive to take my place with her, just as I take my new place in the world. You must understand, your aura took too long to soothe. The ancient mother determined you could never be returned to your old life again. That life was never meant to be yours; living it severely corrupted your aura. That life would have always been a threat to your peace of mind. And a return to living it would forever threaten a darkening of your aura far past anyone's ability to ever repair it again." "You goddamn bitch!" swore Lance. "This was all a plot; you and that old bat have stolen my life. But I'll be damned before I even think about writing another book that you can steal from me. How do you like them apples, bitch?" "I am sorry that this distresses you, Lance, but it is absolutely necessary. Please be assured, there is no other way," replied Mysti. "Neither have I any need to steal books from you. From now on, I'll write them myself, just as I have all the others." With casual ease, she briefly placed a hand on each of his temples. "We shall now exchange whatever one of us needs from the other." Lance shivered at her touch. "What are you doing? I'm starting to change again; I can feel it," marveled Lance. "But wait one damn minute, I've just stopped changing." One of his hands quickly shot to his chest; he was visibly annoyed at still finding two firm full breasts hanging there. "But this isn't right at all. I'm still a girl." He felt his now longer hair swishing across his bared back and the top of his ass. "What have you done to me this time? This isn't even the real me! It just can't be! I'm not a female; I'm male. Have you forgotten I'm Lance Thorndyke?" "I have not forgotten who you are. In the world as it now is, only you seem to have forgotten who you truly are, but soon you will remember. There is no longer a Lance Thorndyke in this world. In fact, there has never been a Lance Thorndyke born here." "What are you talking about now?" asked Lance. "I'm still me; I've always been me. You might have changed my body again, but you'll never be able to change who I know I am." "I have again distressed you more than I had intended. Come with me now. Come peer into the ancient mirror of souls once more. You will soon see that you are who you have always been." Hesitantly, Lance walked up to the large mirror. He wasn't sure this was something that he wanted to do, but he didn't seem to have another option. Somehow he just had to look. As he did, Lance's mind began spinning. If he wasn't Lance Thorndyke as he'd always believed he was, then who the hell could he possibly be? But as he gazed deeper into the mirror, he wondered when his green eyes had turned the same sparkling blue as Mysti's eyes. When had his lovely red hair, of which he'd always been so proud, grown several inches longer and lightened to the same blonde shade as Mysti's hair? And why did he now look so much like a younger version of Mysti? Mysti? Just who the hell could this Mysti be? I can't remember ever knowing anyone named Mysti. A look in the mirror showed two young women, who appeared to be sisters. She knew she must be one of them, but how could she be a girl, unless ... Of course - it was so simple, how could it be otherwise - she'd been born one. "Aren't you Lanella Thornton?" she asked the young woman next to her. "I certainly am," replied Lanella. "But how about you? Are you feeling better now?" "I think so," she replied softly reply. "But I feel kind of funny all over." "Don't worry about that; it shall soon pass," said Lanella. "Are you still concerned about writing another book for me?" she asked. "Me? Writing another... book? Just why would I ever want to write a book?" The girl shivered. "I mean I've always enjoyed reading your books, Lanella, but don't you think one famous author in this family is more than enough?" "Perhaps," smiled Lanella. Pretty Laini Thornton grinned at her famous older sister. "But just between you and me, Sis, if I were given a choice between writing one of those fantasy romances of yours and living a fantasy romance with someone like my Woody, I'd definitely take living one every time." Lanella smiled at Laini, knowing her new younger sister would now be just fine. Both now ... and forever more. THE END