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Model: Section 2 By Diana Kimberly Heche Part 4: Learning The Part There was a little less than four days until the Clothes Circle commercial auditions and Tanya's plan was simple - when verbalized - but far less simple in execution, "Don't just act like a woman, be a woman. Think of it," she explained, "as method acting. You have to do it to understand, fully." I stopped walking in circles around the room and sat down, my ability to navigate on very high heels was becoming nearly second nature. I gently placed my butt on the chair, and carefully crossed my legs with a swoosh of black nylon. Exposing a touch of arch, I let the high-heeled pump I was wearing dangle slightly from my foot. I leaned forward ever so slightly so the tops of my breasts peaked out and looked down over my artificially created cleavage - a collaboration of duct tape, pads and breast forms, to make sure everything was in place. My tight black top and short black skirt were both situated correctly. A quick glance in the mirror next to Tanya's bed told me my make-up too, was looking good. Perhaps a touch heavy for the daytime, but that would be needed until the hair remover I was using on my face daily took hold. My eyebrows had been carefully shaped by Tanya to give them a feminine look when in make up, but not attract attention when I was dressed as Peter. At this point, I looked very much like a girl, surprisingly; a fairly attractive one, but I still had "giveaways" in both my speech and mannerisms. I still had a lot of work to go yet. It had been over two weeks since we made the fateful stop at Clothes Circle. And during that time I had been drilling several hours a day every day. Tanya instructed me in all manner of make up, clothing, and mannerisms, but the idea she was presenting to me now was blatantly insane. This is the opinion that I presented to her in no uncertain terms, "You're insane, purely insane, and I can't believe we're having this conversation. You're my sister." "I know it strange to even be talking about this, but Marcy would help us I'm sure. I know it's strange that I'm discussing it, but its not like I'm a sicko and want to be involved..." My mind involuntarily raced back to the bizarre wet dream I had - about my sister, my sister for god's sake - last week. A dream in which I flip flopped bodies with Tanya back and forth, and found myself being fucked by her. I blushed feeling the hot flush of blood fill my face as I could feel the out of place sensation of arousal in my penis, luckily tucked tightly between my legs. "Listen," Tanya continued, "it sounds really over the top, especially to prepare for a commercial. But even the most confident women have a vulnerability at the core, and you, despite how much we practice, can't seem to reach that place inside of you. And it shows - you don't quite have it down. If you understand the place that vulnerability comes from -" she paused, thought it through and started again, "the fact that we... we women... are recipients of sex and penetrated during the act, I think it will break that last barrier that keeping you from getting a full grasp of womanly behavior." This is insane. Insane, insane, I thought to myself again. It was already insane that I spent large parts of every day dressed and acting as a woman, my sister was now discussing bringing in one of her friends to... basically... fuck me in the ass with a strap-on dildo. This was insane. Tanya, although pushing this idea, didn't look very confident herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had to know giving me to one of her friends to get fucked, while I was dressed as a girl, was very far off the beaten path. But in these past few days, in the whirlwind of preparation, the line between what normal and not, was becoming blurred. "Listen," I said, "I can't have a stranger, no matter how good friends you are with or how kinky she is, and come in here and... and... you can understand that can't you?" "But what about the vulnerability?" What is it with this vulnerability? Why was she pushing this craziness so hard? I looked at her for a moment quietly. "I don't think it's important. This isn't a life or death situation, where if I'm not enough of a woman I get shot by the mob. It's a commercial. And it's a commercial where I'm competing against other guys, not girls mind you, for the part. I doubt very much any of them are ramming dildoes up their ass to get the right feel." Tanya, watched me as I spoke. I detected the slightest bit of pain on her face. She really wanted her brother to get screwed. Badly. And like a gas filling the room, the reality of the situation dawned on me. For the past week, we had been closer than ever before. Talking laughing, lying together and looking at fashion magazines for hair styles and clothes. We made jokes like we were two sisters to keep me in character. She taught me to mimic female ways with a zeal and didn't accept mistakes as we drilled my movements, clothing and speech over and over. She was doing what those of us who had a sibling of the opposite sex always wished we could do - have a brother or a sister by a simple magical snap of the fingers. What I am viewing as a lark of a job opportunity - despite the odd inexplicable feelings of satisfaction and arousal dressing gave me - she must be looking at as a way to bring us together. In some strange way, it made sense. But if it made sense to Tanya or not, it was still undiluted insanity. I sat without speaking for a long while. Tanya did not seem inclined to fill the void. Finally, not even fully understanding why I said it myself, possibly out of a desire to replicate the feeling of the dream, or possibly lie with a beauty like Marcy in any capacity, I spoke. "Okay. Okay. But I'm going to reserve the right to back out at anytime." Tanya's face was oddly neutral. I had expected a hug or a smile. But that wasn't the case at all, as this was now being set into motion she seemed understood the strangeness of this situation as well as I did, her idea or not. *** The next couple of days were uncomfortable with a strange, odd mix of dread and anticipation. Tanya and I were very embarrassed around each other, although we were cemented in our commitment to see this through. We had decided to use a hotel room in town and to aid the moment along with copious amounts of alcohol. We also decided this would be a good time to take me out in public first. A test run of sorts. We picked the hotel bar, quiet, dimly lit, with a good number of people without being too crowded, to have our drinks. *** To make sure I didn't attract any attention from my parents, I loaded the car with two suitcases before they returned home from work. It was fairly common for me to spend the night over a friend's house, and just as common for me to get them to cover for me, so that worked out not to be a problem. I arrived at the hotel a full three hours early feeling nervous and - oddly - excited. There was much going on tonight, the least of which was my actually entering the world outside of my house dressed as a woman. Now was the time to see if I could pull this off, despite the hours I had spent practicing, without Tanya. Carefully, I spread the suit case contents on the bed. As I looked across my large collection of skirts, blouses, heels, panties, bras, shape wear, wigs and make-up. Even in neat piles in took up nearly every inch of the king size beds. And since every bit of it was from Clothes Circle, there was not a conservative out fit to be seen. I took a deep breath. Wearing this stuff, whether I wanted it or not, I was going to get some attention. I had to be perfect. I walked around the bed surveying what I was going to put on. Ever since the day I first put on a pair of heels in the store and saw how... there's was no other way to say it... pretty my feet were, I developed a bit of a foot fetish, strangely for my own feet. I was possibly the only "woman" in the world who was going to choose her outfit from the heels backwards, but that was my plan. I grabbed a pair of high platform strappy sling backs with black straps and clear heels. They were going to be, at the least, an attention grabber. I would choose the rest of the outfit after I was cleaned and made-up. I peered into the bathroom, and found a rare large sized bathtub I would be able to stretch out and bathe in. This was a nicely unexpected development. I filled the tub, stripped out of my shorts and T-shirt, and settled into the warm bath, bathing every part of my body thoroughly. Placing my foot on the side of the tub, I carefully ran a razor over what little leg hair was left from my almost daily shaving. Running my hands over my now baby smooth legs, I was pleased with the result. I sat down on the bed, slowly moving the nylons up each freshly shaven leg. The cool sensation felt wonderful against my leg, despite my conscious desire to pretend I didn't enjoy it. I slid into the waist cincher and padded underwear. I carefully taped my pectoral muscle together and cover them each with a silicone breast pad. Once I had my padded bra in place, round realistic mounds peeked from the top of my bra. I slipped into a tight black mini dress pushing my nylon-encased feet into the high heel strappy sling backs. Looking down at my body, everything was in place. I took a long red haired wig off of the bed and combed it out carefully; hair spraying it in the manner Tanya had shown me a multitude of times. Finally, I sat down in front of the mirror and carefully applied the make up as slowly and deliberately as I once painted model airplanes as a boy. Once I was done, I stood and turned to look at the full-length mirror. The result was stunning. I looked like a woman. A nice looking woman at that. I stood with my hand on the doorknob for what had to be eternity, but in reality was more like five minutes. With one deep breath and a wave of courage, I pulled the door open and stepped out. The hallway was empty allowing me to breathe easier. Riding the wave I headed to the elevator down to the lobby. The hotel bar was adjacent to the elevator, which allowed me to step inside without crossing the crowded lobby. I knew, from looking at myself a moment ago, and for the past few days for that matter, that I looked good, but I feared my sheer nervousness would give me away. Sitting down in a back booth, I ordered a drink from the twenty- something waiter who came over almost immediately. I could see his eyes linger on me. At first I feared I had been "made", but the look on his face was one that I am sure has been on mine many time. He was checking me out as an object of desire. The strangeness of the situation affected me in several odd ways at once. A part of me relaxed knowing that if I could stand this level of scrutiny I was going to be okay - as long as I followed Tanya's careful tips on moving and speaking. There were equal parts of me that were flattered - as a boy no one has glanced upon my form with such admiration and desire, and the straight male in me fearfully anxious. But even as I asked for an apple martini, a drink I had decided was girly, but sufficiently strong enough to settle my nerves, I felt a stirring of arousal in my penis shoved and tucked between my legs. What was going on here? Not giving me time to mull over my conflicted psyche, Tanya arrived in the bar with Marcy in tow. My sister or not Tanya was always an attractive girl, but Marcy was absolutely breath taking. She was a longhaired woman, with a nice ample bosom sitting on her thin almost skinny frame accentuated by her long shapely legs. They were both dressed fairly similar to myself - black hose, black tops and mini skirts, high platform heels. "I thought you'd wear that," Tanya said by way of greeting glancing at Marcy in a nearly conspiratorial fashion. What was she getting at? "You look great, by the way. Absolutely great. We wouldn't be able to tell you from one of our girlfriends". We were now three attractive girls sitting having drinks. I didn't understand the implication of this until I noticed the stares, furtive glances and men, as they came into the bar, who seemed to station themselves so they could take a look at us as we sat there - whether they were with their wives or girlfriends or not. It was a very strange experience for me, being on this side and knowing I would do the same thing. It, combined with the third apple martini I had just finished, was making my trapped penis ache with desire. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the un-sated desire filling my body, but to my surprise, and definitely to the surprise of Marcy and Tanya I said, "I'm ready". Undoubtedly anticipating a full night of drinks and convincing they weren't sure what I was talking about at first. But slowly realization crept across Marcy's face, which seemed to cue Tanya in. In response Tanya's face filled with a strange mixture of anticipation, joy and somehow dread. She said simply, "Okay then. Let's go, but let's get a drink for the way." *** Although I was nervous, and in a state of disbelief over what was happening, I felt anticipation. Perhaps it was the unknown, unlocking another door of sexuality; perhaps it was the excitement of the pure kink of it all. Perhaps it was anticipating being flesh to flesh with this fantastically sexy specimen of a woman such as Marcy. I glanced sidelong at Marcy. There was an energy simmering underneath her that I could almost feel. She was not nervous in the slightest, in fact that was a gleam in her eye that sparkled with electricity. She seemed like a coiled spring ready to explode. We were barely in the door of the room when that coiled spring did explode. Marcy pushed her body against mine tightly - and to me great surprise I could feel that she was already wearing the rubber strap on dildo underneath her skirt. She was, as I suspected, an energetically kinky girl. What beautiful girl would revel in the possibility of the outline of a penis showing through her skirt in public? One that consumes the world of the offbeat sexuality. Marcy pushed me onto my back and the bed and was instantly on top of me. She pulled at my underwear, and not waiting for them to slip off, tore them off instead. Pulling up her skirt, her flesh colored rubber cock fell forth just as my aching boner sprang free. Marcy grabbed my left ankle with her hand and suddenly I felt two lubricated fingers jammed into my hole and worked them back and forth. It was painful, but a - and I was almost ashamed to admit it - pleasurable pain. I looked over and noticed Tanya for the first time. She was holding the tube of lube, assisting Marcy. Tanya grabbed my right ankle so Marcy could guide the strap on into my hole. Marcy pushed in, just enough, allowing my sphincter to relax. If I had any doubt she had done this kind of thing before, it was gone. Instinctually, she moved it in and out just enough that the amount of pain never overwhelmed the pleasure. She worked my ass expertly, and patiently, for nearly fifteen minutes before guiding the rubber cock all the way home. Tanya held my hand throughout, not in a sexual fashion, but like one holds the hand of a woman having a baby, or an ill patient. It was the hand of reassurance. Soon Marcy was pounding away wildly, a look of devilish gleam in her eyes, her breasts bouncing wildly barely contained inside of her dress. She was breathing heavily whispering something I couldn't quite make out, but sounded like "little bitch". I moaned with pleasure, to my great surprise, in a womanly voice and demanded that she take me. That seemed to push a button. Marcy suddenly tensed up and screamed out in loud orgasmic release. She slowly pulled out of me, and rolled beside me on the bed in a gasping, pleasured spread of limbs. "My turn." Tanya said, and pushed at me to roll onto my back. I was shocked into a nearly dazed state, but did as she said and rolled flat onto my stomach. Tanya fastened the harness holding the artificial dick, and slid it into me. Her breasts to my back, she just laid there, holding both of my hands, feeling the warmth of our bodies. Rearing back just once, she plunged deeply into my and shuddered with orgasm as I spewed sperm from my throbbing shaft. We lay that way for a few moments before she dismounted. As sexual as it could be viewed, or frankly as perverted as it could be viewed, it felt more like a far more intense brotherly sister kiss. It is nearly impossible to explain, but that it how it was. *** One by one we took showers and cleaned up, but did so in complete silence. Now that the sexual energy had subsided it was becoming uncomfortable in the room. It sometime before Tanya breached the stillness. I was reaching for my jeans when she stopped me. "No, no don't wear that. Put the dress back on. I can't see you as Peter right now." She paused a good while longer before saying, "I heard you that night. I came in your room while you were sleeping and you were tossing and talking in your sleep. I heard you." She didn't need to elaborate further. I knew which night she was talking about. She had been in my room during the strange wet dream I had about being taken by her as a woman. While I am uncertain what all I said, it obviously enough that she set all of this up. "I did it," she continued, "because, I thought it would bring us closer together - as women, as sisters, I mean." I felt differently than I had at any point after sex in my life. I had been penetrated and fucked roughly but enjoyably. Then I had been penetrated by my very own flesh and blood in some sort of bonding moment. I did feel naked, and very vulnerable. I understood. And the pure naked raw emotion was only going to lead to two things. Either I rejected it all - including Tanya - or it was our moment of emotional catharsis, an act, which made us impossibly close. "You were right. I feel closer to you." Tears welled up in Tanya's eyes. It was heavy in here; I needed to clear the air of the emotion. "And you," I said to Marcy, "must be some sort of part time dominatrix." With deadly seriousness Marcy responded, "Full time." We all burst with laughter. Tanya wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm not kidding." Marcy emphasized over our laughter. *** We returned to the bar and teased the room full of potential suitors who hovered about us, while we drank and drank. Not just Tanya and me, but all three of us had bonded in an almost blood ritual. We were sisters now. I was glad. It was a great night. *** Although Tanya and I never touched each other again, the training now involved very occasional sex with Marcy - albeit never when Tanya was around - and going out to clubs quite a bit. Those two things, just like the intense training I was getting on all other aspects of femininity, helped bring me closer to getting it completely right. I now had a confidence and underlying sexuality in my female form. *** The day had come. Tanya and Marcy had traveled up to Los Angeles with me, and were now spending the day shopping waiting to get my call. The audition waiting room was filled, maybe 60 guys in all. Many of the actors I recognized from my first audition trip to Los Angeles, many I did not. I sat back in my chair and took a good look around the room. A model type across from me had shaped his eyebrows in a jarringly female fashion. With his male garb, and model facial structure, he looked just a little "too pretty". But it let me know I was not the only one who was taking the gig seriously. A lot of names were called some stay in for awhile, some came out almost instantly. None of them looked confident that they nailed it. Almost an hour later my name was called and I walked into the room. As soon as I closed the door and looked up - a football was flying toward me - I snatched it out of the air and tucked it under my arm as if I were going to make a run. A goateed man seated at the table said, "At least this one can catch well." I was asked a few small talk questions that had little to do with the job at hand while the occupants of the room, a goateed man, a young brunette who couldn't have been twenty, and Kendra Jones - the advertising woman I had met in LA the first time and who had placed me for this ad - stood up and walked around me checking out my form with the intensity of a use car look over. "Send... Peter was it..." the goateed man, who was obviously running the show asked of Kendra, who nodded in affirmation even as I answered yes, "send Peter to make up and clothing." The young brunette took me out through the audition room around the corner. The eyes of the fellow auditioners gazed upon me like daggers. There were two other guys in the make up room, and they both were already wearing large laboratory jacket sized make up smocks, while having make up applied to their faces. They both had heels on their feet, so I assumed they were dressed underneath. Neither had a wig, but from what little make up work had been done both would look very good as women. A thin young man wearing a tight ribbed shirt whirled into the room and pulled me toward a rack of clothes and shoes. I smiled as I noted that Tanya in her spending spree had bought a good deal of this, meaning I had worn it, already. After carefully assessing me, he announced my size and handed me some clothes pointing toward a partition, which served as a dressing room. I laid the outfit he had given me on the tiny table. It was a short electric blue skirt with matching top. In addition to the outfit, he had given me a bra and panties, but neither were shape wear I had become accustomed to, to give me my feminine shape. I debated for a moment; I reached into my backpack and pulled out my stuff. Going to work like I had a hundred times, I created the illusion of cleavage and curves. I had done so earlier, but I re-applied lotion to my smoothly shaved legs, as well as the rest of my exposed skin. I got dressed and placed the smock over my body and walked confidently on the electro blue platform heels to the chair. The make up artist was careful and amazing. Tanya and I had achieved some great results; good enough not to tell me from the real thing, but nothing like this. This was amazing. Looking at my face carefully, the artist placed a short bobbed blonde wig on my head. Looking at myself in the mirror I looked wonderful. Moments later Kendra, the young girl and the goateed man entered the room. "Let's see," he announced with a double clapping of his hands. We all stood up and unbuttoned the smocks. The actor closest to me stood on his heels confidently, but the third wobbled like his ankle was about to break. Mr. Goatee was obviously not a man of patience, "Oh god." he said at the actors stumble, "am I going to have to replace you?" As we stood there, I noted I was the only one wearing anything underneath that gave me curves. The others looked good, but not quite like women - no hips, no breasts. The audition staff noticed too because their eyes peered at my shape long and hard. "Walk over to the door there, do a spin and walk back," they said to me. The training paid off, I glided to the door, spun like a ballet dancer, and strode back with the greatest of ease. All three of them came very close to me and examined my face and curves very closely. "Padded bra, huh?" Asked the young brunette. In female voice I answered, emphasizing the first two words, "Clothes Circle padded bra." They smiled approvingly, laughed and moved onto the actor who was also confident in the heels and had him walk to the door and back. He too, was good. Mr. Goatee questioned Kendra, "Both of these guys caught the football well too didn't they?" Kendra nodded. He turned to the third man and without giving him another chance told him he could go home, and added in an almost snide manner "You can keep the clothes if you want." *** It had been two months since the audition and things were spinning out of control. The print ads were a large hit. And I was getting a lot of inquiries and a decent amount of work from various companies which wanted to project themselves as very edgy and cutting edge to do their print work. The other model/actor who did the print ads with me, was not interested. He feared getting typecast as the cross-dressing model, and declined all offers. It was known I was a boy, there was a small write up in various ad magazines about the ad campaign - and as advertisers began to realize America didn't object and was actually hip to the idea, I began modeling on a regular basis. While many of them actually used the tag-line from the Clothes Circle ad, the underlying concept was understood, "If he can look that good in these clothes, imagine what you'll look like." But for a good number, and this was the strangest part, gender didn't matter. I was chosen purely because I had a certain look. It was tough for me to get my mind around, but I was a pretty face. But today, with several of my print ads spread across the coffee table, the family and Marcy were gathered around the television. The three women looked on with anticipation, my dad was, as he's been since we let him in on my new career, embarrassed and skeptical. But it was very difficult for him to argue with the fact that I could now pay my own way through college. "Quiet, quiet, here it comes, here it comes!" Tanya hushed the family with a shout. Buffy the Vampire Slayer faded to commercial and on came the latest Clothes time ad. It showed me in a pick up football game making a diving catch and landing in mud. Filthy, I trudged into my typically male bedroom adorned with pin up girls and sports stars and into the shower. A split second later I step out of the shower in a towel and open up my huge walk in closet to get dressed. The closet had nothing but Clothes Circle things are on the hangers. This brought a belly laugh from my family watching the commercial. A few second montage shows me throwing a blouse over my head, pulling up a skirt, putting on heels and emerging from the closet fully made up with wig and curves. The camera lingers on me for a moment, and the voice over says, "If he can look this good, just imagine what you'll look like." The room burst with applause. The commercial was good, funny and very effective. Even my dad whose face remained skeptical found himself clapping. I stood up and took an exaggerated stage bow before excusing myself with a kiss on top of my mother's head. I had to get plenty of rest. Tomorrow I had to get up to fly out to New York. I was doing my first runway show. Part 5: Penny's Dawning I understood my career was always in the balance, so I had put quite of bit of the money I made away. But I did allow myself some of the things that I'd always wanted, and one of them was a very large home and a decent sized grounds. This was also to ensure that my privacy, one of the most valuable cornerstones of my marketability, was kept. Tanya who lived with me, was upstairs asleep, and I was padding about half dressed in my stocking feet and a thin see through pajama top too energized to sleep. Wearing Hugh Courtney- Fletcher's creation on the runway tonight, and being the center of such a large show, was one of the highlights of my career. Print work was fine, I loved seeing myself in magazines, and to this day never got used to it, but it was many hours and a lot of work. Runway shows in front of a live audience, flash bulbs popping, gives me an energy that can't be duplicated. I flopped down on the couch, adjusting my top to put my breast, which had flopped out, back into clothing. I had no sooner done that then I heard a crunch outside of my window. It was the unmistakable sound of a foot breaking a branch. I froze and pick up the phone and punched #21 - security. "There's someone on the grounds." I spit out as soon as I heard the voice of the guard on the other end. I stood up and walked over peering out of the window. I could see the 9 foot white brick security wall on the end of the tree lined grounds, but little else. As my fear laden curiosity escalated, the doorbell rang. Figuring it could be no one but Alex the security guard - no one can get on the grounds without passing him and burglars don't usually knock - I opened it. I figured wrong. A shock rang through my system as quickly as recognition. The tall slender beauty standing at my door, in a black jacket and dark pants, was the last person I wanted to see. It was Penny Dawn. She walked past me letting herself into my home. Anger and violation flushed over me even as I restrained myself from being physical with her. "Hello darling." she said with false friendliness "Penny. I'm surprised and... happy to see you... but I'm tired," even in this outrageous situation I matched her fakeness, the fakeness that pervades all that is our world, "what brings you here?" And more importantly, I thought to myself, what the hell were you doing outside of my window? The doorbell rang again and this time it was Alex. As I opened the door and he eyed Penny with venom realizing immediately that it was her who sneaked on the grounds. I assured him that Penny was an old friend, and everything was okay. He nodded reluctantly, and left, not believing me for a moment. "That's a very good guard you have there," Penny said in her false tones, "I take it he's one of the many who patrol the grounds of Fortress Layla." My patience was gone, "Get to the point Penny." "I had come by to congratulate you on your splendid runway walk today," the anger was barely concealed, "and somehow I stumbled onto the grounds, I don't know how I missed your security point," her hands waved about airily, "but imagine how surprised I find myself - quite accidentally - outside of your window. I couldn't help but look in, and to my great surprise I saw two very large breasts peeking from under that shirt of yours," I instinctively pulled the shirt tighter, covering my cleavage. She continued, "I was shocked you see, because you had been getting all this press attention for being such a pretty little female impersonator. But then I look down, and what I see is clearly the outline of your... well I have to say it... considerable sized penis. And I'm fairly certain those are hips aren't they?" I bristled silently to see where she was going with this, "You're not a female impersonator, or boy who models in girls clothes at all. You're a... shemale." She said the last word with excessive emphasis, "I always suspected you had a little secret to keep." She knew exactly what she was doing - exposing what I had hidden carefully for so long. Although I had evened the playing field with cosmetic surgery, granted major cosmetic surgery, to allow me to do swimsuits and other clothes without the aid of binding and bulky shapewear, I kept it hidden. Because, the difference to me may be merely some implants here, nose re-shaping there, the term "shemale" somehow seemed a lot different. And it would be a lot different to those who made up my "audience". This wasn't like being gay, or a cross-dresser or even a full transsexual. There was something about having a full female body and male genitalia that frightened many. And Penny was very aware the people who pay me to wear their clothes and make up, would be very frightened as well. "Penny," I said trying not to betray my hurt and anger, "what is it exactly that you want?" "Simple. Since you've come along, every eye is upon you. You're a traveling circus and you keep the attention away from me. My career has stalled, and I know it's because of you. And now... you're stealing the top dresses from the top designers from me. Ms. Layla, I want you out." And with this simple declaration, she turned on her heels and left. *** It had been quite some time since I had seen Marcy. Even under these extreme circumstances I felt a certain gratitude and debt for her helping me unlock my femininity. As she entered the room she and Tanya greeted each other warmly, and we all sat in the middle of the floor with our legs crossed. The smell of coffee brewing wafted in from the kitchen. The emergency meeting was in session. The conversation had been on going by cell phone for an hour already, so there was no need for anyone to get up to speed. "I watched her leave, and I'm fairly certain she didn't take any pictures," I said of Penny Dawn's invasion, "but that really doesn't matter. If the word gets out its out, and short of butchering myself by having everything undone, I can't disprove it - quite the opposite. Besides, I may have done this to get the edge on modeling job, but I like the way I am." We sat quietly for a long while. Only the sound of the wind rustling the trees could be heard. Time crept by as everyone remained in thought, thinking of a way, short of murder, of keeping Penny quiet. It was Marcy whose face which slowly broke out in a partial humorless smile although her face was still bunched in deep thought - the seeds of an idea were being hatched. "Listen," she said finally, "are there any designers, that you're in good with, that she covets? Any designers that could take her to the next level like this HCF guy's stuff you wore today? I mean one you can come clean with about your... body type" "Yeah, maybe... HCF." I answered thinking back to the sex we had before the show and suddenly my brain clicked on, "Yes, yes I'm sure of it, HCF. He may be as interested in not getting into this mess as I am." I left the implication that as a model of his line, he wouldn't want the press, but I was also thinking about the press of the - as the media like to call him - rare male straight designer having sex with a... shemale - how I hated that term - right before his show. I hated to use that as leverage... or blackmail if you will... but this was a desperate situation. "Good, good" Marcy nodded approvingly. *** The next day I announced my retirement from the fashion world. And although I didn't have to be there to know it - Penny Dawn popped open a bottle of champagne. *** The Hugh Courtney-Fletcher show was in full swing. People ran about in a pre-show whirlwind and the usual chaos was ensuing. In the center of it, perched like the Queen of the World sat Penny Dawn. She was standing in the room reserved for HCF himself. The room where he decided who was going to wear the center peace creation of his fall collection. There were rumors that HCF very subtly extricated sex in exchange for the honor. But this didn't make a bit of difference to Penny, she was more than willing - it was her turn to shine underneath the spotlight. Hugh Courtney-Fletcher gestured to his Fall collection. "I believe," he said to Penny, "that this may be my most fantastic creation yet. And out there, in the audience, the whole world waits to see what I am going to unveil..." Penny's heart raced in anticipation. Her mind had already moved on to the celebratory parties - celebrating her - after the show. HCF gently touched her back and guided her toward a chair, kneeling her in front it. Penny's torso lay across the seat with her head pushed against the back. He ran his fingers through her hair and placed his hand on her face. Penny smiled through the tangle of hair even if, because of the placement of HCF's hand, she could not see him. Anticipating the joy of walking down the runway as the highlight of the show far more than the impending sex, Penny vagina dripped with readiness. HCF stuck a finger in her muff, moving it in and out slowly and whispered, "No, no the ass." It was that moment the penis slipped inside of her ass that she moaned with delight. As it moved in and out she whispered HCF's name in orgasmic rapture. A she slid back and forth in physical joy, it was obvious that she was not aware that HCF had moved aside, and the penis plunged deep inside of her was not HCF's at all, but mine. And she was surely not aware of the video camera which whirred silently and hidden in the corner of the room. With the flourish of a magician unveiling a trick, HCF's removed his hand from Penny's eyes. It took her a moment, but as she saw where he was situated she spun her head around. And it was at this moment that my penis exploded inside of Penny Dawn's open anal canal, and what seemed like quarts of my sperm running down her crack onto her vagina. Penny let out something between a scream and an orgasmic explosion, which quickly melted into a whimper. She was a devious woman in her own right, and it didn't take that nimbly evil mind to know that this was not just an act of humiliation; this was an act of blackmail. Her eyes went quickly around the room and fixed on the rack of clothes best situated for the camera. A tight- lipped humorless smile crept across her face. In a voice dripping with evil sarcasm she said simply, "Bravo." *** At my insistence, we let Penny wear the dress, and she was given her moment in the spotlight. She was a putridly black-hearted woman, but the tables were now even. We, however, made it very clear that if word of my surgery escaped to the world in any manner whatsoever - since I am HCF would both be finished, this tape would come out and she would be just as finished. As I explained, "We will edit so no one will know this isn't voluntary. And I'm certain a... shemale porno," I paused to let it sink in, "wouldn't do much for your career" Strangely, at this moment, Penny Dawn who understood underhanded blackmail and manipulation, looked upon me with grudging respect. I, for once in her mind, was considered an equal. *** I waited another three months to come out of "retirement" and did it with a splash. HCF and famous British designer Charles Hausman had a joint show. I was magnificent, and the show went over gangbusters. Maybe I was, against all odds, going to the top, maybe I wasn't. But there were no Penny Dawns or artificial barriers that were standing in my way. Diana Kimberly Heche